We Are the Future
by MostRemote
Summary: At the Kaiba Boarding School for Boys Jounouchi and Kaiba's lives are ruled by oppression and fear. When Jounouchi gets caught in Gozaburo's games he must decide: save himself? Or protect Kaiba and risk being dragged down with him? Jounouchi/Kaiba. AU.
1. Before All This

**Full summary:** In the oppressive Kaiba Boarding School for Boys, Seto and Jounouchi find life difficult at best. But when Jounouchi becomes a pawn in Gozaburo's schemes he finds himself caught up in Seto's horrific world. It's a long school year ahead, and as despair and depravity start to take over their lives, they can only find solace in each other.

**Warnings:** strong language, violence, sexual content, non-consensual sexual content.

* * *

**We Are the Future**

* * *

_Dear Jounouchi Katsuya,_

_We are delighted to inform you that you have been awarded a one year scholarship at the Kaiba Boarding School for Boys, in accordance with your score of 489 out of 500, which is considered an exceptional grade for even this, the most prestigious of schools._

_We look forward to your joining us on the 1st_ _of September for the first term of school. We hope you enjoy your stay at our school and welcome you most sincerely to our student body._

_With the highest regards,_

_Kaiba Gozaburo_

_Headmaster_

Jounouchi reread the letter once again, rather pointlessly as he now knew it by heart. He took a deep breath of the barely cool air filtering in through the open coach window. The temperature was unbearable, the open windows doing little to alleviate the heat. He read aloud his high score, 489, and looked to the boy sitting beside him.

"What does it say you got, Yuugi?"

Yuugi held a nigh identical letter, printed on the same fine, cream paper in elegant font. "494." He glanced out of the coach window, looking faintly sad. "I left out the final essay question. That was worth 20 marks alone."

"It's quite strange," came Bakura's soft voice, knelt on the seats behind him, hands crossed beneath his chin. None of the many students crammed into the overheated coach were sitting in their allocated places, most leaning over the backs or sides of their plastic backed chairs, exercising their last moments of freedom.

"I really want to believe we all got in again on merit," said Yuugi. "Last year, I just put it down to a fluke. But it's just not possible to only miss 6 points when you left at least 50 points' worth of questions blank."

"I don't think they're admitting us based on test scores," said Bakura quietly.

The three of them settled back into silence. They all knew it was true, but nobody was willing to discuss it. Exactly one year and two weeks ago, they had all been mailed a letter notifying their acceptance into the Kaiba Boarding School. They had taken the scholarship exam on a whim, really just as a laugh to see how badly they did, and somehow, brilliantly, they had all been offered a place.

"Perhaps we should be thankful," murmured Bakura, his head resting like a doll against the headrest of the dully patterned orange seat. "It's the school with the best reputation in the country. Perhaps the continent."

"It's a fucking concentration camp, not a school," Jounouchi spat back, falling back to his seat from where he had been surreptitiously trying to dispose of a cigarette outside the window. "I hate it. I know I say it every day, but I hate it."

Outside the filthy window, the houses started to morph into lines of cultivated trees, and the road narrowed into a thin one-way drive, sloping elegantly up to the front of the school.

"Sometimes I wonder," Yuugi said quietly, his head against the window as they moved steadily towards the grey brick building of the school. "If you jumped off the highest tower, just how long you would be falling before you hit the ground."

* * *

A strange silence hung over every pupil that entered the main hall, setting in as they passed through the knowing looks of the gargoyles surrounding the main doors. You couldn't lose yourself in the excitement of seeing new friends, or get caught up in the wave of nostalgia, because all memories made here were made to be forgotten.

Jounouchi immediately lost the company of the rest of the group as he stepped inside, separated by a mass of students clamouring to find the staircases to go up, the right notice boards to read and people to locate. There were plenty of familiar faces, people he recognised and had never spoken to, people he was friends with, and people he hated. Nobody acknowledged one another.

As he scanned the crowd, his eyes drifted up to the top balcony, the one that connected the teachers' private quarters to the more… private areas of the school. You hardly ever saw anyone up there, but today there was one familiar figure. He was leaning onto the stone of the balcony, standing dressed in the black formalwear, providing a harsh contrast to the final bout of rainbow the students had donned before they had to revert to their uniforms.

He stood looking out at the students with a quiet boredom. For a brief, surreal moment, Jounouchi and Kaiba's eyes met, the boy looking down at Jounouchi's inquisitive features for less than a second before he looked away again. Jounouchi continued to stare, not really noticing as he was jostled back and forth by the sea of students, as Kaiba turned and walked slowly back along the balcony, his hand trailing over the rail. He wasn't going to the teacher's quarters, of course. He had his own room, being the son of the headmaster. Down on the ground, Jounouchi pulled a face and turned himself roughly in the direction of his dormitory.

_Ugh. Privilege._

* * *

"Oh great," said Jounouchi sarcastically. "New uniforms."

And indeed they had; a little dark blue pile on each of the twelve beds all neatly folded and perfectly positioned. He watched as Bakura unravelled the clothing, a long elegant pair of navy trousers and a white shirt, covered in a little matching navy jacket, to one another by a plain metal hanger. There tumbled onto the bed from the opened package of clothing a pair of silver cufflinks, a blue striped tie and a pair of light black dress shoes.

"Are they any better than last year's?" Yuugi's voice, forcing its way out from behind his wet hair which was dipped into the sink, the boy smearing cheap black dye into his multicoloured locks. "Mine were about three sizes too small."

"No, these look even worse," Jounouchi replied, carefully scrutinising the tiny waistband of the trousers folded on his own bed. "I hate it here." He threw them back upon the bed and then threw himself on top of them, looking up at the yellowing white of the ceiling. "Managed to raise a bit of cash over the break so I paid to have last year's uniform tailored so it would actually fit. You know what happened?"

"They mysteriously disappeared from your suitcase?" asked Yuugi.

"Right. Right!" He rubbed his hands over his face, calloused from whatever manual labour he had been working on. "Along with the booze I tried to smuggle in a hollowed out text book. Bastards."

From across the sink Yuugi nearly choked on thin air and Bakura looked up with utter shock on his face. "Jounouchi, if they hear you-"

"No one's around," Jounouchi waved a hand, falsely blasé, fleeting panic washing over his face, little waves of urgency. "I mean… They wouldn't… I'm just out of practice, that's all. When lessons start I'll stop swearing."

"And the slang," Yuugi's voice again, letting the inky water drain slowly out of the sink. "They'll get you even worse for that." He ran his hands through his hair, moaning in a disgruntled way at his reflection. "It's not working; now it's just three different shades of murky black. I told them it was naturally different colours; I had grandpa write them a note." He gave Jounouchi a reproachful look. "I don't understand why they let your ridiculous fringe pass without comment."

Jounouchi shook his hair about proudly. "I'm a rebel." Yuugi threw the towel at him, then, and Jounouchi threw it back at Bakura.

"Really, I can't go to class like this; they'll send me straight back." He emptied the bottle of dye upside down and a few mournful, inky drops fell into the sink. "I don't have any left… What am I going to do… What am I going to do…"

* * *

Jounouchi was late. Too late. _Criminally _late.

After a late night talking with his friends he'd fallen asleep at lunch, and now afternoon classes were starting and he had to get to his form group at the other side of the school. His shoes squeaked a little on the polished wood floor as he desperately tried to slow his pace as he rounded a corner. A surge of adrenaline shot through him as he saw the prefect at the end of the corridor, the dark head turning for a fraction of a second before it was hidden by the corner of the wall, Jounouchi lurching back out of sight.

The clacking of polished boots on polished floor, the perfect rhythm of the perfect student making its way down the corridor. _Prefects. _Chosen for privilege, not talent or skill. Jounouchi wouldn't get given a prefect badge even if he turned himself into the perfect emotionless clone that they all had to aspire to be.

The footsteps slowed and then stopped. Jounouchi took a breath, turning his head a little to the direction they had been coming from. Then they started up again, slowly getting quieter as they walked off in the other direction.

Jounouchi let out a slow breath, relief flooding through him. He turned back around the corner, and immediately froze as he saw who was standing in said corridor.

The pale figure was gazing thoughtfully out after the prefect, a small silver badge fastened to his lapel, although bearing a different symbol to the prefect badge. It was all there, the signs of the perfect pupil: the well fitted, well ironed navy jacket with all the buttons done up so that not a millimetre of skin on his neck showed, the white shirt beneath, only visible by the bleached cuffs. The silver cufflinks with the school crest on each one. The matching navy trousers that clung too tightly and fell at just the right length over the gleaming black shoes. Perfection.

How Jounouchi hated him, and everything he stood for.

"The great Kaiba Seto," crowed Jounouchi, spitting out the name as if it were a bad taste. The figure turned his head, empty blue eyes looking his inferior up and down briefly before alighting on his face. "Didn't expect to see you late to class."

He watches as Kaiba considers his reply, the faintest brush of a frown preceding the words. And when he speaks, everything is measured exactly and utterly perfectly. "I have reason to be. I have duties to attend to. You, on the other hand, have neither." His arms fell to his sides, his voice dropping the classical lilt. "And you should be thanking me, bonkotsu. You'd have been in detention if he had caught you here."

"Don't bother, I can take care of myself," Jounouchi retorts, eyes going to the hall clock to check the time.

For a fleeting moment a sad smile crosses Kaiba's lips. He recognised the bluff. It's one he's played himself so many times. "Of course," he said quietly, without sarcasm. For a moment he hesitated, trying not to think about the kind of punishment the idiot blond would have received if he _had_ been caught. And then the mask came back, all snide curl of the lip and knowing smirk. "Of course. But you're nevertheless late and I would more than happy to put your name on the detention list myself."

"Yeah, yeah," Jounouchi starts to saunter towards his classroom, not wanting to test Kaiba's limits, not when he was given such an unfair advantage. "I could talk my way out of it."

Kaiba's eyes fell into a dead glare, cold eyes burning into the back of Jounouchi's head. "Like Gaku talked his way out of it?"

He stops his slothful walk and exchanges the glare with ferocity. "Don't you dare joke about that,"

Kaiba shrugs, his gaze moving to stare out of the window at the perfectly cultivated lawn. "I'm not. I'm just reminding you to drop the frivolity a notch or two." He lowers his eyes again, a sick smile twisted his mouth. "Or you'll end up just like him."

Jounouchi pulls a face and turns back to the classroom once more. Gaku… He's buried in the school cemetery under a faceless headstone, cleaned weekly by those in detention. The engraving is clear and emotionless. "Sato Gaku" (three centimetre gap before the next line) "12th June 1990 - 19th November 2006" (another gap) "First year student" (the final gap, and then in twenty percent bigger font:) "Rest in peace". It wasn't his fault. And it wasn't the school's fault either, or so the papers claimed. He was too ill for corporal punishment; he had a weak heart; he couldn't take it.

None of the students believed a word of it.

* * *

By some miracle, Jounouchi managed to slip into class a moment before the teacher did. He ignored his work freely, looking instead at the heads of his fellow students, noting with a smile how easily you could distinguish _us _from _them. _The subtle nuances that helped you tell who was on your side and who… well, wasn't. Who didn't support the institution. Who did.

"Alright class," Everyone looked to the front in varying degrees of wakefulness. The teacher, Yoshida, a short man with a laughably bad comb-over and a little too fat around the middle, surveyed the class with lifeless eyes, hidden behind thick, distorting glasses. "Two minutes until first period -Mori, take the books in at the bell- so I just wanted to remind you all of tonight's dinner-" He doesn't need to remind them, of course. Every Friday night it's the formal dinner, with every single school pupil and teacher in attendance. "-and that you should all be on your best behaviour, alright?"

"Now," He walks around from behind his desk to the front, sitting on its edge and causing it to creak loudly, complaining at its very existence, no doubt. "I'd like to welcome you all back after the long holiday. It's your final year here, so I expect you all to be working as hard as you possibly can. There are to be no excuses this year for slovenliness or any other nonsense. Is that clear, class?"

"Yes, sir," The dead chorus of twenty voices -no, nineteen, one seat is empty- chimes out. The empty seat is Kaiba Seto's, of course, Jounouchi wonders why he didn't notice before. But then, he's hardly ever in class. More often he has private lessons at the headmaster's insistence.

The headmaster, of course, the most respected and honourable Kaiba Gozaburo.

Utter nausea at the mere _mention _of the name.

They hate him. They all hate him. His own son hates him, his never seen wife hates him, and yet, everyone greets him with a smile and a bow. He could kill you with a snap of his fingers if he wished. He's not just any headmaster, of course. He's the headmaster of the most prestigious school in Japan -hell, maybe even all of Asia, maybe even the world- and descended from god-knows-who, but born into money and power and more than comfortable with those inheritances.

The bell goes, a dull three second klaxon, and Jounouchi shuts his book and waits for it to be collected. He watches a boy bearing the silver prefect badge pick it up as he passes, throwing Jounouchi a superior smirk.

Jounouchi restrained himself, gritting his teeth as he stood.

_Privileged assholes_.

* * *

Kaiba Seto watched the students laid out beneath him like crops in a field, his face expertly blank. They were more like weeds, really. He watches them, tearing into their dinner with revolting abandon, laughing, talking with full mouths. He sits above them all, at the staff table, back straight and food untouched. _I hate them all._

"There are less than last year," Seto's voice is almost inaudible, barely the whisper of the wind. "I've counted."

Next to him, his father moves his head a little closer to Seto's, never taking his eyes off the plethora of students lying out before them. He thinks of them more like ants, mindless ants desperately working to please each other. He finds it even more pathetic than his son does.

"Why do you care?" He's about to turn back to his food, the rich plates loaded with even richer food, all the highest quality. You can almost taste the money as you swallow mouthful after choking mouthful. "It's a waste of time thinking about them. Do something useful instead."

"And what would you suggest?" He wishes he could muster the energy to be sharp-tongued, to cut down his father's superior tone. But he swallows the words. He can use them on someone who doesn't carry a gun in his belt. "Term hasn't even started yet, and already I'm bored." He hides a smirk with a turn of the head, adding a dry "_Sir._"

Next to him, his foster father laughs. More than derisive; simply dismissing anything Seto could have ever made of himself. "Shut up and eat your dinner," Seto's muscles clench beneath his shirt as the faintest ghost of a kiss is placed on his cheek. He refuses to look up at the man on his left, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the cold plate of vegetables and small scraps of meat in front of him. He feels like vomiting.

He remains in silent obedience as his father stands, the only student who's eyes are not on Kaiba Gozaburo, who is ready to address the hall. There's the longest of brief silences, the man revelling in the sheer terrorised fascination he holds the hall in.

And he smiles.

"Well, I must say it's a pleasure to see you all back again," Looking at each table in turn, picking out every nameless student and mindless tutor. "Or at least, most of you. It's sad that we're missing several of our number this year…" Another of those pauses, letting you all remember exactly who those several were. Disappeared, dead, nobody knew exactly what had happened. "…But I suppose that can't be helped." He smiles again, everybody aware that he is the only soul who _could _have helped it, yet chose not to. "I'd like to welcome the newest year of our students, and assure you all that you're going to be for one of the most exciting and trying years of your lives, and also to greet once more our returning students, who will of course have graduation to look forward to at the end of their time here, moving out into the world after these final terms." The smile widens, the perfect wolf surveying the sheep. "I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I will."

* * *

**Thank you for reading. I always appreciate reviews and it encourages me to keep writing knowing people are actually reading this fic because I know it's a bit niche, what with being both an AU and pretty dark.**


	2. The Makings

**Rewrite: I have changed relatively little in this chapter, just corrected a few errors and rewritten some bloated parts.**

* * *

"Lights out!"

A click, and then the sound of a great machine being switched off, only magnified hundreds of times over throughout the capacious halls. Darkness fell with relief over the empty rooms, every single one thrown into blackness. A short mixture of sighs and shouts of annoyance rose from the dormitory Jounouchi slept in, followed by a clamour of shushing and reprimands.

In the debilitating dark, Jounouchi could just about make out the slim outline of Yuugi's bed next to his, the blurred silhouette of his poorly combed-back hair atop the pillow. He had gone to sleep half an hour ago, as had several of the other boys. The first day was always a shock to the system, becoming painfully used to the long school hours and the several hours of homework to be completed afterwards. They never got too much work on the first day of term, however, most of the first lessons just being based around introductory courses. It didn't change the exhaustion that you would have to deal with afterwards.

Insomnia had been a pleasant distraction throughout the holidays, Jounouchi had observed, staying up most of the night on coffee and late night hours of the internet and pirated music, but now it was a bane to him. If you didn't sleep, you couldn't function properly, and the day ahead would be impossible to get through. But you know that the moment you close your eyes, the moment you drift into sleep, you'll be awake again and you'll have to face the day over again.

He wasn't sure which was worse.

"Whose light is that?"

One of the boys at the other end of the dormitory had said it, and Jounouchi rolled over to look out of the vast windows north facing wall. The curtains were drawn far back, letting the moonlight stream into the room, casting elegant blue shadows across the beds. From this dormitory, you could just make out the windows of the north dormitories, and little else. But tonight, high up in the north tower, a little way before the top, a warm orange light was glowing gently. Pulsating almost, as if the light within wasn't electric.

"Janitor, perhaps?"

"Don't be an idiot," Faceless voices threw comments through the inky air. "The janitor lives in an outbuilding."

"A teacher, then?"

"No teachers live in the tower, you-"

"Shut up; all of you shut up!"

A tentative silence crept back into the room. Outside the faint sound of approaching footsteps was returning. They approached the door, stopping on the other side of the thin panel of rotting wood. Somewhere in the silence a student laughed, as though the entire thing was a joke. Another 'shut up' was hurled at them from across the room, and the door was immediately pushed open, a floodlight torch shining into the room. You could only make out the shadows that polluted the man's face, and the slight reflection of the light in his eyes. The room fell instantly silent, every horribly awake pupil staring at the figure in the doorway.

"What is all this?"

The sheer disdain with which he addressed the room was enough to hold the silence perfectly, the tone of a man who _knows _he is the best amongst his company. What his friends would describe as a portly gentlemen, the very epitome of wealth with two straining gold buttons on his waistcoat keeping his well fed stomach from spilling over his trousers.

They had all thought it was a mere prefect at the door, not a teacher. And of course, there were some teachers worse than others.

"I'm sorry, sir, we couldn't sleep," a quiet voice murmured from a few feet to Jounouchi's left, just perceptibly Yuugi's soft tones. Every student held their breaths as the man in the doorway looked over the beds.

"Well, I suggest you all shut your mouths and go to sleep. Not tired enough?"

He was addressing Yuugi solely now, as if he spoke for the dormitory. Indeed, he seemed to have forgotten anyone else was there at all. He had moved closer to the slim bed, leaning over the huddled figure.

"Yes, sir; we'll go to sleep now."

"Like fuck you will," the man said, driving his knee suddenly into the side of the blanketed figure. Jounouchi closed his eyes as he heard the other boy cry out, a screech sliding out from under the disturbed sheets of the bed. The silhouette of the man straightened, glaring blindly out at the beds. "One more word out of any of you and I'll shut you up personally, clear?" Only the affirmation of silence answered him, but this seemed enough. Satisfied, the thick dark shape within the blackness moved back towards the door, illuminating the floor before him with the harsh light.

The moment the door was closed Jounouchi leaned across the gap between the beds, tapping the back of his friend's shoulder. Yuugi's head turned slightly.

"You alright?"

He paused before he answered, his voice still carrying the last vestiges of the vicious kick. "Yeah, fine. Go back to sleep."

Sleep, seemingly impossible now, claimed the rest of the dormitory quite easily. Jounouchi wanted to say something, to make it all better, as Yuugi had done for him countless times.

He couldn't think of anything.

* * *

"You're up late."

Late… This room was made for 'late'. Lavishly decorated in foreign silks of red and purple, intricately patterned draperies hanging over every piece of furniture, exotic incense, countless tiny golden and blue statues covering a small table. A vast bed, heaving under countless lace and velvet curtains that hung around it.

In the centre of the bed, Seto looks up from the battered volume he has been poring through to the man standing in the door. "I'm always up late. You're usually just asleep at this time." His eyes drop languidly back to the book. "_You're _up late," He turns a page, but he's lost interest now. "Anyway, I thought you were wanted to check the security logs. Make sure everything's- hey-"

The book is lifted out of his fingers by his father's hand, the man flipping it onto its side to read the scrawling title. "'Beyond Good and Evil.' Why do you read such impractical drivel?" He tosses the book back onto the bed, walking over to the disgustingly overpriced wardrobe, rifling through a selection of similarly ostentatious attire for a preferred maroon robe. "Honestly, Seto, we have a whole library of half decent literature and you have to read pretentious trash like that."

"I happen to like it," Seto replies, picking the book up again. "And I've read half the library as it is. You need to get some new books in." He looks up to his father, then looks back down immediately. After so many years he still feels uncomfortable at the sight of his father's body. The discomfort nearly amuses him.

"Hm. You shouldn't be wasting your time with fiction and philosophy any way." For a moment, there is nothing but domestic silence punctuated by the quiet rustling of clothes being removed. Seto tries to concentrate on his book again, willing away the panic and disgust rising within him. "Speaking of the security cameras," Gozaburo continues, shutting the mahogany doors and walking over to the bed, pausing at the side of the mattress to look down at his son. "Who is he?"

"Who's who?" Seto knows perfectly well who he means, and knows how unconvincing his lie is.

"The blond. I saw you talking to him on the tapes. Who is he? I don't believe you mentioned his name."

_Damn._ He knew this would happen. Only a handful of words had been exchanged between Jounouchi and himself, and immediately it's picked up, written down, recorded, analysed and presented to his father in a handy little scathing report. He hadn't even been the one to initiate the conversation. "I'm not sure who you mean," he's playing for time, turning another page of the book, whose words might as well have been unreadable for the amount of attention he's paying them. "I've spoken with a lot of people today so-" His words die on his lips as the slap lands on his cheek. A brief moment of pain, and then the usual comforting stinging sensation that follows sets in. He takes a breath, his hand moving to the reddening area. "His name's Jounouchi Katsuya. We went to school together, before this place. I just happened to run into him."

"Oh, did you? Out of lessons, in a deserted corridor? Sounds more like an illicit meeting to me."

This time he does laugh, the sound dry and strange to his ears. He laughs so rarely. "An illicit meeting? In a corridor smothered in cameras, constantly monitored by people tracking my every move so I don't 'misbehave'?" He looks up, forcing himself to meet those dark eyes. Sometimes hazel, sometimes the colour of honey. He wonders if honey can ever taste bitter. "Really, dad, it was nothing. I won't ever say a word to him again if it makes you happy." He slips his foot out from under the blanket, nudging his father's leg, naked under the dark red gown. "Don't worry about it."

The moment of appraisal, and then it's all forgotten. He's forgiven for a crime he never committed, and his father pulls at the strings of the robe and slips it off, letting it fall to the floor and climbing into the bed next to his adopted son. The white sheets are shifted around as he slides into the middle of the bed, lying down next to Seto, who is still staring blankly at the book he had been trying to read. The familiar kiss on his bare thigh. The unwanted warmth of an arm around his waist.

"I don't know why you object to light conversation with the students. It's not as though I'm going to leave this place," Seto says, leaning over to put the book on the bedside table, balancing it precariously between an ash tray of cigar and cigarette butts and two empty glasses of tequila. He flicks off the gaudy tiffany bedside lamp, made of nothing but coloured glass and an abundance of tassels, and slips down beneath the duvet, staring at the dark blue canopy above him. "I have no one to talk to."

"Mm. Not true; you have me."

"Yes, but," It's already pointless. "I'd like to talk to someone my own age. Just every now and then."

"Seto," The voice is slightly muffled by his son's soft skin pressed against his lips. "If you don't shut up I will beat you until you do, alright?"

A thick stretch of dusky night air and musty corridors away, Yuugi frowned as he rolled over in his sleep, his fresh bruise pressed into the side of the mattress.

"I was only making a point, sir," Seto stares at the canopy above him, the rich blue velvet and the little gold stars sewn onto it making the elegant pattern of Scorpio. His bare shoulders prickle in the chilly air, his white collarbone stark against the empty shadows under his neck. He swallows, wondering, then speaks again. "I haven't talked to anyone in months. Do you really not trust me to have friends, or-"

"You know," The irritation has melted into anger in his father's voice, the man pushing himself up onto his forearms, the well defined muscles below his shoulders tensing slightly. "The reason you don't have any friends is because you're socially retarded. It's nothing to do with me."

Seto would rather protest, even if he believes it to be true. "But you never let me talk to anyone-"

"_Because_," The man moves closer, his face an inch away from his son's. Even in the lightless room Seto can still see the undeniable power in his eyes, the utter contempt for his son. "You embarrass me. You look good until you open your mouth. You think I want people associating me with someone as useless, as disgustingly humiliating, as you?"

Near the window, a slight draught disturbs one of the myriad wind chimes.

"…no, sir. Of course not, sir." Seto's eyes drop, seeing under the duvet the faintest outlines of their naked bodies. More silence pounds through the room, and Seto looks up to the canopy of the bed, tracing with his eyes the familiar zodiac mark, fully aware of his father studying him in the darkness.

"Fuck it," Gozaburo murmurs. Seto watches in curious silence as he rolls back onto his side of the bed, reaching for and taking a sip from an expensive bottle, then replacing it amongst the heaps of pills and condoms contained within the small drawer of the bedside cabinet, closing it again. "It's not worth it."

He lies back down in the bed, not even facing his son any more. Seto can only stare at his back in silence, completely unaware of the boys in the dormitory far away who had watched the light switch off.

* * *

Jounouchi doesn't dream that night. He lies awake instead and remembers the slices of pleasure and happiness that had eaten through over the last year, snippets of sitting on the red brick wall and laughing with his friends. He remembers his mother writing to tell him how proud she was.

That might have been the only reason he truly came back. He could have run away; he had saved enough money. If he had chosen to, he could leave and catch a flight far away from here, perhaps get a job in a diner or a bar. Meet a nice girl, settle down. It wouldn't have been idyllic, but it was a life that would have suited him fine.

But those tiny, ever so lopsided letters praising him and apologising for leaving all over the page. Telling him that she couldn't believe what he had made of himself, and how she had been wrong about it all…

A tingling heat of shame and horror crept through his body suddenly as sharp flashes of what his mother had said to him so long ago. He kept telling himself that he didn't blame his mother for what she said and felt. It was his father's fault that she didn't trust men, that she didn't want her only son around. She didn't mean it when she said those things.

He closed his eyes and finally began to fall asleep, the last thought before he drifted off of his mother. He could see so vividly her smiling face, her pride, see Shizuka standing beside her at his graduation from this place, finally welcoming him back to their family.

* * *

It was not the dream itself that worried Seto - he had been having peculiar dreams for years - but more why he should have it now.

In the dream he was standing in his father's bedroom, staring at the mirror and trying to place _why _there was a mirror there. There wasn't one in real life, so why was there one in his dream? He would stand there, looking at his hands in the mirror. Never his face or the rest of his body, just his hands. Thin and tapered, even more so in the dream. And then he would look up, and he would be outside, in the middle of a vast field. At first it would be a plain green, not quite the colour of regular grass, and then he would look down to his right. The green would have gone, and nothing but yellow stalks of wild, African plain grass would be left, knee high. Between the stalks, there would come the sonorous rumble of a tiger's growl. And for the briefest moment he would see its eye, framed between the stalks, and then it would all dissolve into blackness.

Sweat. He so rarely woke up sweating, or frightened, or for a terrified, panicked moment thinking the walls were falling in on him before realising it was just his heartbeat. Hot silk sheets and pillows, red with golden dragon designs, sticking to his naked back in the darkness. The cool expanse of air above the bed and below the canopy. The sound of someone shifting next to him.

Slowly, it all pieced together, the snippets his senses were feeding him melting into place, and Seto remembered where he was. Nausea gripped him, swirling persistently in his stomach, and for a moment he wanted to scream, to flee, anything to get away from the person sleeping beside him. The perverse man who forced Seto to call him father. He took a few deep breaths, feeling the sickness gradually dissipate.

Next to him, the silhouette of a head raised itself from the pillow. "You alright?"

"I…" Breathe in. Breathe out. "…yeah. Yes. I just had a nightmare, sir." Taking dry swallows, eyes starting to make out vague shapes in the darkness. The sheets were plastered uncomfortably to his skin. "I need to take a shower." He swung his legs out from under the heavy duvets, sheets and blankets, accumulated over the years from various overpriced fanciful stalls. His feet welcomed the cool red carpet but as he moved to pull the layer of sheets off his torso a firm hand gripped his wrist, pulling him back against the bed. He turned to see his father holding him in place, undoubtedly annoyed by his son's disregard for asking his permission.

"Go back to sleep, Seto."

Seto shifts under the thick duvet, every pore of his skin screaming out for cool water. He rolls onto his side, staring at his father's closed eyes. "Dad? Please?" No answer to the question, although he certainly hasn't fallen asleep yet. That feeling of resignation, so familiar to him now, settled once again over his bones. Dipping his head a little, just catching his father's lips on his own. Gozaburo's eyes open suddenly in the darkness, caught off guard. Seto adopts his gentle pout and perfected childish eyes. "Please?"

A tense silence itched through the blackness, and then there came the sigh of irritation as his father rolled over to face the other way, and said the wonderful words: "Alright. But get to work as soon as you've finished. You've got the results of the August report to finalise."

Seto pulled back the heavy sheets with a new energy, pausing only for a moment to turn back and kiss his father on the cheek, before walking swiftly off to the bathroom, his naked body painted with a gentle rose in the approaching dawn. It was the little things that added up to this painful harmony that he managed to live by. The occasional kisses, the affectionate looks… He could keep his father happy, and then his father would allow him his own modicum of happiness. It wasn't much, but it was enough to live by.

* * *

It was the sixth chime that woke him up, the first five only vaguely managing to invade his dim dreams of senselessness and weariness. Jounouchi had become wonderfully accustomed to the lie-ins and perpetual laziness of the glorious vacation, and it was a jarring reality to wake up to the clanging bells and shouts of the other boys of this… institution.

Among the slowly abating chaos amidst the clamouring students of the dormitory, Jounouchi slipped out of the warmth of his own cotton bed and crossed the distance to Yuugi's, gently shaking the boy's shoulder.

"Hey? You awake?"

After a moment of slightly shifting blankets Yuugi's violet eyes opened and blurrily focused on his friend, blinking a few times before he sat up a little. "Yeah… Yes. Good morning, Jounouchi…"

"I wanted to check that you were ok," he said, perching on the end of the bed. He laughed forcibly, the familiar defence mechanism of humour kicking in. "Although you're probably tough as anything, what with the pharaoh looking out for you."

Yuugi smiled appreciatively at the light attitude, but there was still the painful absence of the golden pendant around his neck. It was something most definitely not allowed by the school, and it lay nestled under his bed hundreds miles away at home. By now all the students had managed to get themselves down the rec room - the recreation room - leaving Yuugi, Jounouchi, and Bakura in the dormitory. Bakura had not yet got up, listening to Jounouchi's and Yuugi's conversation from his place sitting up in bed with his knees drawn up to his chest.

"He had no right to do that," Bakura said, toes wriggling beneath the thin blanket. "Yamamoto, he had no right to hit you."

"It's not like we have rights here," said Jounouchi. "The teachers can do what they want."

"Just because they can doesn't mean they should," Bakura softly replied. "It wasn't Yuugi's fault-"

"I'm not saying it is."

Yuugi sighed. "Yes. I should have known better."

"I didn't mean that," started Jounouchi, but a look from his friend silenced him.

"Yes, you did," he said softly, smiling sadly. Yuugi continued staring into space for a moment, smiling at nothing, then looked back at the room. "Right, I better go put some cream on that bruise."

* * *

Jounouchi spared a moment admiring the new uniform after he had dressed, scowling at the tailored fit. He missed jeans and loose cotton already. All their day clothes would be taken and stored behind a locked door until the end of the year, or the next holiday. And so until then he would be stuck in the hideous garments he wore now.

Still, at least he had the early morning off. Lessons conventionally didn't start until nine, but most of the students were already working by half past six to study or complete the various assignments they had been set. But it was the first day, and no one had any work to do just yet. He hated the claustrophobia of the brick walls already, and made purposefully for a small closet he knew lay nearly unused towards the south of the school. Once he came upon it he slipped inside, eyeing the camera suspiciously. He shut the door behind him and clambered over some buckets and discarded clothing to the back of the small room, fumbling for a handle on one of the walls. He found it and, with a savage twist, wrenched the rusted door open and stepped outside into a blinding light, the huge green school field spread out before him.

The field itself was freezing this early, glossed over with a low hanging mist. It was completely inaccessible, however, separated from the gravelly road that ran around the school by a huge fence. The road rose in a steep incline towards the east of the school, the fence cutting into the cement floor until its top was level with a stout red wall. You could sit on that and, if you didn't mind a few broken bones, drop over onto the other side of the fence. It was Jounouchi's favourite place in the school. No one came here because it was so difficult to get out of the school without anyone seeing you.

"What are you doing out here?"

Jounouchi turned sharply, seeing to his surprise Kaiba standing several feet away from him with his arms folded, frowning in annoyance.

"This is my spot," Jounouchi replied, jabbing his finger against the wall. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, it _was _my spot."

Jounouchi glared back and turned away, refusing to look at him. "What do you need a spot for; you own the damn place."

Behind him, Kaiba tutted quietly to himself. "I don't own anything, my father does. You shouldn't even be outside at this time of day."

He moved to stand next to Jounouchi, arms still folded tightly as he stared out across the field. Jounouchi looked at him askance, dimly noting that Kaiba smelt of cigars and incense. The cigars… He had his last cigarette before he boarded the coach the day before, the last of a long summer of rebellious drinking and partying. Now he was up for another term of healthy living and hard work. He hated it.

"What are you doing out here anyway?"

Kaiba didn't reply. His face was a dark profile against the bright sky. Silence passed, and for a good moment Jounouchi pondered going back inside to get to his lessons early, but he decided that he preferred the cold morning air and the unwanted presence of Kaiba just a little bit over facing his teachers. "Enjoying the dawn, then?"

Kaiba smirked, relishing his return to authority, glancing disdainfully at the boy besides him. "Not particularly. I see it everyday from my bedroom window."

"Why bother coming out here then?"

"I wanted some time alone." He threw a pointed look at Jounouchi. "Thanks for ruining that."

"Hey, I was here first," the blond replied in indignation. "Find your own spot."

"I could call a teacher and have you dragged back to the school if I choose to," Kaiba said idly, looking at Jounouchi as though it were a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Jounouchi slammed his hand down on the wall hard, glaring at Kaiba in silence and desperately trying not to shout at him. Then he turned violently back to the school and walked swiftly back to the door he had come out from. Kaiba didn't watch him go, but listened to his footsteps on the gravel until they finally faded away.

Unbeknownst to either of them, high up in a thin leaded window Gozaburo stared down at them, watching them intently.

* * *

Classical literature was Jounouchi's first lesson, and it was taught by Yamamoto. Jounouchi spent most of the lesson staring at him in hatred, last night's memory of the man kicking Yuugi's ribs still fresh in his mind. Yamamoto was one of those men who had clearly poured all of his expansive wealth into his body, frittered away on gourmet dinners and fine wines. He constantly looked like he had run up a flight of stairs, with a face flushed eternally red with vintage wine and an insistent wheeze.

The students could have embraced these habits with a raucous joviality, perhaps, if he hadn't been one of the most unpleasant men in the school.

"Ascanius," He said, the first lesson of the new year, the study of Virgil's Aeneid, sitting to balance precariously on one of the front desks, his thighs half covering the student's work. "Also known as Iulus, accompanied Aeneas to his climactic battle with Turnus - which goes on for a few hundred fucking pages, you'll find." He shifted on the desk, one hand falling on his own leg, which he began to stroke as one would a pet cat. "Ascanius was a spritely boy of ten or so - we never learn exactly how old he is, but I always imagined him as a young, lithe boy with… Oh, maybe golden curls and nice big blue eyes. Riding around with his father on a great strapping stallion." He paused, staring down at the boy in front of him and leaning towards his face. "Bouncing up and down." He smiled broadly, as a toad would had it been told a particularly disgusting joke that amused it. "Bounce. Bounce. Bounce." He shook his head from one side to the next with each word, as though attached by the strings of a puppeteer with a love for the grotesque.

"So." His hand dropped from his thigh reluctantly, his gaze leaving that of the boy before him. "That's Ascanius."

* * *

…_sum of the terms, n over two, bracket, formula, close bracket, calculate, half, add to first value - twenty four - square route, goes into decimals - change to surds - twelve route two._

Seto repeated the answer out loud unconsciously, the numbers dissolving before his mind like sandy shapes covered by the tide. He swallowed, the click of a stopwatch sounding next his ear. He looked up expectantly as his father flicked to the back of the text book, searching for the answer as though he would rather be anywhere else on earth.

"Yes, you're right." He peddled the golden watch between his fingers idly, his other hand rhythmically turning back the pages with licks of his finger. "You could have been faster. Much faster." He looked down at his son, sitting straight backed at his desk obediently, waiting for his next instruction. "I mean, it wasn't exactly a difficult sum, was it?"

"No, sir." The automatic, groomed answer. "But there were many facets to it."

"That shouldn't matter. That won't matter." Seto can't tell if his father is reassuring himself or his son. "You'll learn. We all do in the end."

Seto looks up sideways, eyes seeming so much younger in the shadow of the older man, who has turned away to extract the Instruments of Correction from their high shelves. The final part of the lesson has to commence.

Seto's hands twist in his lap, the fingers brushing over and under one another like gently insistent fish, all trying to swim somewhere different. He has the potential to be everything. He knows this, and still he would rather make the continuous ephemeral patterns with his slender hands. He watches his father, because his father watches him. It's a silent symbiosis, this gentle shifting of the ache. His father knows that he's ruined, that he's alone at the top of his electronic tower in hell, and if he manages to bring his son down to his level then at least neither of them will be alone anymore. And Seto isn't ready to give up. Not yet. There's too much left that he still has vain hope in, things that Gozaburo forgot about long ago.

He can't forget these things. The memory of happiness is all he has, that collage of old visions of a smiling boy with wild black hair dancing over his closed eyes. He's been beaten before, and he'll be beaten again. But he knows that he isn't being beaten _now, _even though he's bent over a table, stripped and with little drips of blood finding their way to the carpet as the black crop comes down again on his skin, because right now he's… His mind rewinds through his jumbled memories, eventually settling on an image of his brother and him sitting in the vast garden together, eating berries from a bush. Yes, that's where he is now. The pain is from the thorns he's leaning on, and even that pain is good because it's a reminder that he's here with his perfect little brother, and not -

The memory jars, the reality slapping against his bare skin as the pain resurfaces. Seto tries to call back the sun and his brother's smile, but nothing comes to the canvas of his eyelids. It's gone.

* * *

Yamamoto's lesson ended anticlimactically, with the quiet closing of a room of text books and the familiar screech of chairs across the floor. An essay to do, of course; the first assignment of the year. They'll have a few more by the end of the day, as always.

Jounouchi blinks several times, the constant waking slumber that this school puts him in being shrugged off for a few moments so he can get to the next class. He barely passed this class last year, and he doubted that he would even scrape that by the end of this one. He didn't care. If it wasn't for his mother's scratchy inked words, he wouldn't be in this building at all. He would be on another continent, running away as fast as he could. It wasn't in his nature to run, but sometimes there is too much to face, too much to fight. He had made that choice before, that it was easier to turn your back on something than face it, and he knew that sometimes it was the only option.

He was sure, in the long run of the universe, that it bore no significance that he was thinking these things as he walked past Yamamoto's desk, about to turn out into the corridor, when the man said his name.

"Oh, and Katsuya?"

The boy turned at the door, seeing Yamamoto-san staring up at him with a strange expression that he couldn't place, ignoring every other student for a single moment.

"Yes, sir?"

That toad mouth of his stretched across his face, pulled apart by invisible forceps. "Wait for a bit; there's something we need to discuss."

Jounouchi looks up as Bakura, the only person he really knows taking this class, looks back at him questioningly as he moves through the door, carried on the tide of people to his next class. Jounouchi turns back to look at Yamamoto, moving reluctantly over to the man's desk.

"Please, have a seat," He indicated the small wooden chair a foot or less from the one he was seated in, and Jounouchi slowly lowered himself into it. He can feel the older man studying him, tiny black eyes creeping over his body like a pair of cockroaches. "You seemed to have difficulty completing your work last year. And I hate to see my students fall behind; I'm sure you understand, yes?" He leant forward, face inches away from Jounouchi's. The boy nodded, the legs of those black insects crawling over his face. "So I thought you might be interested in some extracurricular activities instead of the assignment -" His eyes flicked away from Jounouchi's face and over his shoulder. "Oh, Kaiba-san, can I help you?"

Jounouchi turned his neck to see Seto standing in the open doorway, holding a small pile of manila folders with a painful delicacy.

"You need to sign these," he said, placing them on an empty space on Yamamoto's desk, leaning between the man and Jounouchi to reach. His dark hair nearly brushed Jounouchi's face as he moved, and for a moment an overpowering smell of metal washed over him, laced with an oddly familiar cologne. He stared for a moment, time seeming to slow into eternity as his eyes alighted on a bead of dried red-brown liquid on his neck. The cologne… Jounouchi knew that he had smelled that before, somewhere in this school. And it wasn't on Seto.

The brunet straightened, waiting for Yamamoto to sign them so he could return with the documents. "Yeah, give me a minute, Kaiba," He turned his attention completely back to Jounouchi, blocking out the thin figure standing so close to them. In one slow, heaving movement he had moved himself forwards, his thick right hand moving down to grip Jounouchi's thigh. Jounouchi twitched at the contact, his touch seeming to burn him it was so unwanted. He sat stiff in the chair, knowing that Kaiba was watching them. "If you would prefer to forfeit your work this year - oh, and it is a _lot _of work - I would be quite happy to find something just as educational for you to participate in. Hm?"

That one moment seemed to last a thousand times longer than it could have done, Jounouchi finally wrenching himself away as he stood up, horrible shivers going over his body like he was about to vomit. "Yes, sir. I'll think about it."

Another beat, another moment standing there frozen, and then he turned and strode out of the door as briskly as he could.

* * *

Seto stared at the light cream of the sheets bearing Yamamoto's signature, lying amongst the various pieces of work and documents splayed over the floor of his father's study, and replayed the scene in his mind for the hundredth time.

_Why? _That was the obvious question._ Why of all people choose Jounouchi Katsuya to be your new fuck toy? _There were far prettier boys to be certain, ones that would be far more willing and cooperative. Yamamoto never looked to break spirits; he was simply in it for the sex. His father was the one who liked to destroy people's souls, he knew that from personal experience. Perhaps it was out of common human decency, or perhaps it was some desperate psychological need to liberate someone from this madness, but he knew from the moment Yamamoto had leaned forward and touched Jounouchi's thigh that he didn't want the blond boy to end up the same way he had.

"Do you know," Seto murmured, looking up from the jumbled spreadsheet he was annotating at his father, sitting across the room at his magnificent dark mahogany desk. "Why Yamamoto has taken such an interest in Jounouchi Katsuya?"

Gozaburo looked up, his dark eyes mixing surprise with his signature glare. "What? What is your obsession with that boy?"

Seto put his pen down, staring at the numbers in front of him blindly so he won't have to match that accusatory glare. "I was just thinking out loud. A strange coincidence for him to be picked up by Yamamoto just after our conversation about him."

Gozaburo returned to his work, completely uninterested by the conversation. He doesn't _approve _of conversations. "I suppose. What does it matter?"

"It matters because -" Seto knows that this is going to be difficult, that this is a delicate manoeuvre that he cannot get wrong. "- I don't want to see him raped."

His father looks up immediately. "Is _that _what this is about? Why the fuck would you care? I thought you said you barely knew him?"

"That's true," he says, hating himself already. "But he's…"

"Special?" Gozaburo provides, mouth curled in a sneer.

"Ordinary," Seto says lightly, the syllables surprising himself. "He hates it here, and I think it would destroy him if Yamamoto had his way. I just felt some strange urge to prevent that. Call it a passing fancy."

His father studied his pensive face, weighing up the options. A strangely cruel and yet benevolent smile formed on his lips. "If you care so much, I'll make you a deal." Seto is paying close attention now, staring at his father's eyes as though standing at the edge of hell. "I'll give you my word that Yamamoto won't touch the boy - won't touch him, won't fuck him, the works - if you provide me with a little entertainment."

"Entertainment?" He's used to providing men with 'entertainment'; it's something he's been doing since he was ten years old. It wouldn't be the first time his father had made a deal with him to earn his complacency, but there was something in the man's tone that suggested he wanted something else.

"Yes. You think very highly of yourself, don't you?"

Seto would have laughed if it wasn't so dangerous to do so. Self-esteem was hardly something he would list among his strong points- years of physical and emotional abuse had taken care of that. But Gozaburo didn't seem to require an answer and continued.

"Well, you're always complaining that I never let you socialise or make any _friends_-" he spoke the word as though the very idea of a platonic, healthy friendship was abhorrent to him. "-so here is a golden opportunity to make one. Now," he leaned forward conspiratorially. "I'm no fag, but I'd bet you and that blond boy would look quite the pair together, hm?"

"I don't understand," Seto said quietly, his stomach lurching a little at the slur. He didn't know what his father actually thought of homosexuality, but he had always been clear to his son that it was entirely inappropriate- unless, of course, it was for his own sick amusement.

"Well, you and that boy make an attractive contrast. There's something undeniably alluring about it."

Seto picked up his pen again and stared at it determinedly, his mind subconsciously displaying rapidly changing images of Jounouchi, testing the waters as it were. Physical or emotional attraction no longer seemed to matter to him when it came to sleeping with people; it had been years since he had been with someone he actually cared for.

"I don't think Jounouchi's gay," he said delicately, not meeting his father's eyes. "I don't think he would go for me."

"Then look upon it as a challenge," Gozaburo replied, going back to his work. "I'll give you until half term. That's plenty of time to make someone want to fuck you." He looked up again, smiling with a mix of affection and delicious cruelty. "Hey, it only took you three weeks to get me to do you." His smile widened for a moment into a wild grin and then dropped as he turned finally back to his work. Seto studied his hands, idly tracing a pattern over the network of faint scars that covered them with his eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he murmured. "Let Yamamoto have him; I don't care any more."

"Oh no, no," Gozaburo leaned back from his desk and folded his arms, staring levelly over at his son. "You can't go around promising things and then going back on them."

"I didn't promise-"

"I'll tell you what," The light tone had completely left his voice, leaving the cold power of sheer sadism. "You'll fuck him, and then you'll bring him here, and then we'll see if you and him want to put on a private show for Yamamoto, hm? And if you refuse-" He drew his jacket back a little, indicating the silver gun tucked into his belt. "-I'll kill him." He said it with the same casual conviction as if it were nothing to him. Seto knew he wasn't lying; he'd killed people before. What did one kid matter to him?

"Alright," Seto said quietly, smiling a perfected fake smile. "You don't need to act like that." He waited for Gozaburo to go back to his work but he continued to stare with a quiet hatred at his son, one hand resting on the gun. Seto leaned back a little, resting his hand on his thigh with a practised motion. "I'll do whatever you want."

* * *

A hollow crash echoed steadily around the concrete ground of the back of the school as a small rock ricocheted off one of the large green metal bins. Jounouchi watched it fall and then moved to pick it up, throwing it with same viciousness at the next bin, slowly making his way towards the school field, enclosed by the high metal fence.

"Bastard," he muttered, not a camera or prefect in sight to hear him. Lessons seemed to have only just ended, and yet the sun was already beginning to set, sending black stretching shadows towards him across the grey ground. "Fucking _assholes_. As if they have any idea what it's like for us. Like they could cope if they had to go through what we go through."

He threw the stone violently at another of the bins and it bounced suddenly back, landing on the other side of the fence. Jounouchi stared at the motionless bit of rock for a moment, quite out of reach now, and then moved quickly onwards, breaking into a light jog as he made his way along the fence. It was so thickly meshed that you could barely see through it, just a green blur of the thinly trimmed grass.

Jounouchi came to a halt at the foot of the small red wall, breathing deeply. Jounouchi sat down on the wall and swung his legs over onto the other side, staring out across the dismal, dew laden field. It was the closest to an escape you could get here, and mercifully quiet.

If he had been the crying type, he probably would have bawled. Instead he sat in quiet fury, wishing to whatever would help him that he could get out of this place. "Fuck," he spoke to the silent field. "What am I gonna do?"

* * *

Seto found Jounouchi that evening sprawled out in the same deserted spot in which he'd found him that morning, the blond boy's eyes shaded from the setting sun by the long shadow cast by the brick wall. Seto regarded him in silence for a while, wanting very much to turn and go back, but he knew that wasn't an option. He swallowed his pride and trepidation and approached the drowsing boy. Jounouchi opened his eyes as Seto approached, looking up in shock to see if it was a prefect or teacher, but he soon dropped back to the concrete when he saw who it was.

Seto paused next to him and looked up, staring at the bright sky, yellowing with the approaching dusk.

"I trust you enjoyed your time with Yamamoto?"

Jounouchi's eyes flashed open again, full of hatred and, despite his attempts to hide it, fear.

"What do you want? Come to mock me?"

A grim, honest smile. "Well, you are such an easy target." It feels so brilliant to be the one in control, the superior one.

He closed his eyes once more, bending his head so it was further submerged in the shadows. "Oh sure, it's alright for you rich people," Seto could just hear his voice cracking. "Lounging around all day, no one to answer to. Like you have any conception of what the real world is like." He kept his face in darkness, but Seto could hear the slight tremor in his voice. "Self-involved asshole."

"You should really calm down," Seto murmured, reminding himself why he is here and what he must do. He rationally tells himself that Jounouchi has no idea of what's going to happen or that is life is in danger, but it doesn't stop the quiet fury from bubbling up.

Jounouchi gave a bitter burst of laughter. "You know what? Fuck you. Will you just get out of here?"

For a moment Seto's stoicism slipped and he thought he might hit the other boy. But the moment passed and the urge was gone. He pulled the smirk back onto his face like a familiar jacket, standing straight again with folded arms. The perfect figure of superiority that he doesn't possess. "Careful, you might want to keep your anger on a tighter leash."

Jounouchi flipped him the finger and turned to stare at the wall, ignoring Seto. Seto remembers his father's words, remembers that the boy's life is in danger, and forces the rebuke back down his throat.

"Look," he said carefully, a peace offering. "I can fix it so Yamamoto never bothers you again if you like. As a favour."

Jounouchi sat up out of the shade, finally showing his face. He stared at Kaiba with suspicion from eyes reddened as though from crying. "Why would you do that? What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," Seto takes a certain satisfaction in that that isn't technically a lie. "I hate him as much as you do, perhaps more. I'm not particularly invested in helping you, but it's completely within my power to ensure that he never bothers you again." He shrugged artfully, trying to affect the right level of benevolent disinterest. "It matters neither way to me."

Jounouchi stared back at him. He seemed to consider it for a moment, although whether he was actually thinking about the question or simply trying to appear so out of pride Seto couldn't tell. After a few seconds of silence the other boy stood up, stuffing his hands stubbornly in his pockets as if to accentuate that he didn't want to be any part of this secret treaty.

"Alright," he mumbled, trying to match Seto's severe expression but succeeding only in a childish pout. "What do you want me to do in return?"

Seto's eyebrows twitched in surprise beneath his carefully combed fringe. He hadn't thought of a payment. "In return?"

"Yeah. I don't want you going around running me favours and getting me in your 'debt of obligation' or whatever," he said. "So what do you want in return?"

Seto opened his mouth to reply but stopped short, realising abstractly that it was a very long time since anyone had ever offered him anything so blithely. His mind flew over a veritable database of his thoughts and feelings, searching for something appropriate that could be appeased for payment. Nothing to do with work, that was certain. And his home life was something he tried to keep as locked up and private as possible, even if his father insisted on publishing all the nauseating details amongst the more unpleasant members of the staff. Finally his racing mind rested on a sparkling image that remained resiliently hidden from his father's prying. Mokuba.

He'd written a thousand letters, each one carefully folded and concealed in an old, unused textbook on a high shelf in their bedroom. He had intended to write everyday, and that was exactly what he had done, but Gozaburo had been more than clear about the consequences of sending letters, and so they had remained crisp and unread in their hundreds, one for every day he had been here. He had spent a little time with his brother in the holidays, spending every Sunday afternoon in his company in his only time off, but he hadn't had nearly enough time to say everything that he had poured into those secret pieces of paper.

"In return," he said, choosing his words delicately. "I would like you to mail for me some letters."

Jounouchi's eyebrows shot up into his fringe. "What? Anthrax letters or something?"

Seto laughed softly in spite of himself. "No, the regular kind. I don't have any access to post boxes or anything so I never have an opportunity to send them."

"Then why ask me? Why not one of your employees?" He stressed the last word with the same intonation that Gozaburo had used on 'friends' earlier. "I'm not your lapdog."

"I'm forbidden from sending them. Believe it or not, I'm subjected to even tighter security than you are. However, you should be able to deliver them for me without incident. Is that a fair deal?"

Jounouchi studied him, trying to work out an ulterior motive that he would never deduce. "Alright then. When do you want to give me these letters?"

"This Sunday," Seto said automatically. "Sunday evening. I'm free then. Just come up to the north tower at about seven and I'll be there."

"Right," Jounouchi said, standing and stretching. "Whatever. I have to go and finish an essay now."

He lingered in the sun for a moment longer and then walked away, glancing back at Seto once before continuing back to the school. Seto ran his hands over the wall, realising that they'd both stood here at sunrise and sunset. If he still had a sense of romance he would have smiled, but instead contented himself by sitting down in the spot Jounouchi had been lying, feeling the warmth of where his body had been before.

"I hope you're stronger than you seem, Jounouchi," he murmured to himself. He suddenly realised he had no idea how he was going to complete this… 'challenge'. Gozaburo had asked him to seduce plenty of people before, but they had all been perverts sexually inclined to young boys, and weren't exactly difficult to win over. He had no idea how he was going to go about it.

It suddenly hit him then, a small but sharp memory of not feeling like this. Not feeling dead inside all the time, not blindly obeying the man who controlled his life. Having a value on his body and soul so that he would never dream of whoring them out for favours. It wasn't something that mattered any more, of course. But then, little did.


	3. Opening Curtains

**Rewrite: I've rewritten this chapter pretty heavily. Huge sections are cut or completely rewritten, and most notably I've changed the ending slightly.**

* * *

Work was relentless. Aside from the school syllabus, which Seto worked through at about five times the rate of the other students (and was expected to achieve full marks where most barely scraped passes), he had to cram in as many additional subjects that his father cared to forcefully bestow upon him. The man didn't favour creative pursuits, so literature, music, and other arts were all but forbidden. Maths, science, economics... These were his father's weapons of choice for the 'real world'.

_The real world..._ Seto chuckled at the thought, completely hidden from the rest of the study by the high piles of books surrounding his desk. His father fought so hard to keep the real world at bay, to prolong this narcissistic fantasy of control over a school of frightened teenagers. He knew nothing about what the real world was like, and one day Seto was going to use that ignorance to his advantage.

The pale boy finished his sum and dropped his eyes to his lap in which rested a slim volume of German text. His father didn't even know his son knew German. He was so sure that he already had his son pushed to breaking point when it came to his studies and remained blithely unaware that Seto spent a fair amount of the day reading his own illicit books while still managing to complete all his work. These false boundaries, carefully nurtured over many years, kept Seto at a comforting distance from his father's expectations. The man was so certain he had his son under his consummate control, and yet... and yet...

Not for the first time that day, Seto thought of Jounouchi and completely lost his concentration. It was the first weakness he'd shown in months, if not years, and his father had pounced upon it and sliced it open, ready to tear it to pieces. It wasn't a significant weakness, this ounce of compassion he still retained, but it had been enough. For once, his father had broken through his distancing boundaries and managed to get at something that truly affected Seto; more than that, something beyond his control. If Jounouchi couldn't cope with what was thrown at him then, well, Seto would have to suffer the consequences.

* * *

Jounouchi was the last in the locker room after athletics, throwing himself down onto one of the benches and panting as he tried to get his breath back. Admittedly he hadn't been practising as much over the holidays as he should have been, but he didn't think that he'd be this out of shape.

He pulled his shoes off and started tugging at his shirt and pants, heading towards the showers. He was the only one left in here so he'd be able to shower free from the usual torments and insults passed down the food chain of bullies and self-absorbed rich idiots.

He stood under the hot water with his eyes closed and leaned against the cool tiled wall, letting his mind wander. Showers were the perfect place to relax. There was no way you could possibly do anything productive in a shower, so you didn't feel guilty for not working. And of course it was incredibly peaceful, just standing there and-

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," came a sudden voice, and Jounouchi's eyes flew open, immediately getting filled with water which he frantically blinked away, revealing the slightly blurred image of a man in his mid forties, standing in an immaculate suit and gleaming patent leather shoes a few feet away with his hands clasped in front of him. Jounouchi remained frozen for a moment until he managed to place him.

"Uh, Kaiba-sama." He became suddenly extremely conscious of his nudity and panicked as he tried to decide if it would be ruder to cover himself or not to. Kaiba Gozaburo made no indication that Jounouchi's nudity bothered him, so he remained awkwardly standing a little out of the shower and trying not to meet the man's eyes.

"You would be Katsuya, yes?" The man took a step nearer Jounouchi who resisted the urge to take a step backwards. "I've been wanting to meet you in person for a few days now." He freely and unashamedly looked Jounouchi up and down, not concentrating on any area in particular. "I gather that you have met my son."

"Um, yeah, I have," Jounouchi blundered, a little terrified. "Kaiba and I - I mean, Seto and I have known each other ages."

"But you're not exactly friends," the man replied, as if this were a fact that greatly interested him. "Are you?"

Jounouchi blinked at the directness of the question. "No, um, we're not, sir."

The man took another step closer so he was only a few inches away from Jounouchi, little flecks of water landing on his suit. "Please, call me Gozaburo. I just had a… call it a premonition, that you and him might be getting very close soon."

"Oh." remarked Jounouchi, not knowing what else to say. He had a deep dislike for Kaiba and everything he represented and couldn't see them becoming friends any time soon. "Any particular reason for that, sir?"

"I told you to call me Gozaburo," he said, sterner than before. "I loathe formality from people like you. Acting like you deserve me as a superior."

Jounouchi didn't know what to say to that, now unable to take his eyes away from the older man's, which were burning with an intense fury that deeply frightened him. But a moment later the fury had passed like a cloud over the sun and he was smiling again, which still managed to be terrifying.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your shower," he said, reaching out to grip Jounouchi's shoulder in farewell. Jounouchi suppressed a shiver as he felt the cool skin on his naked shoulder, certain that the man let it linger there longer than was appropriate. "I'll see you around, Katsuya."

Jounouchi remained frozen in place until he was absolutely sure that the man had left, and then let out a long, relieved breath.

"What the _hell..._"

* * *

Seto interlaced his fingers and rested his chin atop them, staring with unfocused eyes at the piles of ignored textbooks around him. He'd seduced a lot of people in the last few years he'd been his father's personal whore, all with the same detached, clinical nonchalance that he used towards his work. Each person just seemed another project to him, something to be accomplished as efficiently and swiftly as possible. Of course, this was the first time he had had to sleep with someone who was not only not a complete pervert but a somewhat decent human being. Not to mention his probable heterosexuality.

It had been a long time since Seto had come across someone _not _attracted to him. Half the teachers had tried to fuck him and there were plenty of the more depraved students he'd picked up out of boredom. His psychotic foster father had allowed him very few freedoms, forbidding him from friends, leisure activities and any contact with his brother outside of the holidays. One of the things he had been allowed to do was fuck. For some reason, despite his insane possessiveness in all other facets of his son's life, Gozaburo seemed to find it healthy for Seto to indulge in a wide array of sexual partners. He hadn't questioned why this was at first, simply taking as great advantage of this small freedom that he could, and it wasn't until he'd stopped being able to remember the names of the people he was sleeping with that he realised he no longer placed any value on his body whatsoever. His father had won again.

This business with Jounouchi was the first time in years he had had any kind of emotional investment in a sexual partner, not counting the revulsion and self-hatred his father's advances provoked, that is, but his feelings were not pleasant ones. He felt ashamed to think of what he had to try to do to the other boy, dragging him down to his own level. It wasn't a conquest, it was attaching yourself like a dead weight to a drowning swimmer. It wasn't his idea of a power trip.

"That idiot..." Seto muttered. If Jounouchi had a spine he would have refused Seto's help and coped with the Yamamoto situation on his own. Seto's lip curled at the thought, feeling his father's influence override his natural instincts once again. If he wanted to try and protect someone, even an idiot like Jounouchi, then that was his right. It was not his fault that it had already gone so horribly wrong.

He turned back once more to his work, that thought repeating like a mantra in his mind: _it's not your fault_.

He tried not to think about Jounouchi, about what would happen if he failed to protect him. He tried not to think about whether or not he would cry, or if he'd remain completely blank and slowly fall away into the abyss, or...

_It's not my fault. It's my father's._

The pencil Seto was holding snapped in two.

* * *

"So… he just walked in on you showering?"

"Exactly!"

Jounouchi collapsed onto the yellowing mattress in the empty dormitory next to Yuugi, running a hand through his still damp hair. Yuugi leaned back on the pillow and frowned deeply, as if the word 'exactly' was a great conundrum. "I guess that's pretty weird."

"'Pretty weird' hardly covers it. I mean, what kind of sicko acts like that?"

"The kind who runs a prestigious boarding school that it's impossible to leave?" supplied Yuugi unhelpfully. "Maybe you should just forget it. I've heard stuff about Kaiba Gozaburo, everybody has. It's probably just his way of asserting control."

Jounouchi hadn't mentioned what Gozaburo had said about Seto and him "getting very close", and he didn't intend to. It was obvious that there was something going on that Yuugi and him weren't seeing, and quite frankly he didn't want to know. "So, what kind of stuff have you heard?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Yuugi said lightly, like it was a piece of casual gossip. "That he has a famous porn star sex slave locked up in his basement."

Jounouchi laughed, completely forgetting the shower incident with the relief of humour. "He lives in the tallest tower, Yuugi, how would he have her locked up in his basement?"

"Maybe that's where he keeps them, like a harem of porn stars." Jounouchi laughed again, and Yuugi joined in. "And he's set his sights on you to spirit away to his secret sex chamber!"

"Alright, that one's not funny," Jounouchi feigned a straight face but the comment held no ring of terror any more. It was just him and his friend making jokes about the school headmaster, and he completely forgot about Gozaburo and Yamamoto and the whole school.

They made crude jokes and stupid comments until the sun finally slipped over the horizon and the evening set in. Jounouchi glanced at the clock and saw that it was three minutes to seven. He stood up suddenly, remembering where he was supposed to be.

"Damn, I'm meant to meet Kaiba - Kaiba Seto, I mean. I totally forgot."

"Kaiba? I thought you hated him," Yuugi said. "Why do you have to meet him?"

"He did me a favour and I said I'd repay him," Jounouchi started pulling on his socks and shoes lopsidedly as he hurried. "I'm going to be late."

"Repay him… _how_?" Yuugi raised his eyebrows, mind still fresh from their previous topic.

"Post him some letters or something," muttered Jounouchi. "I don't know, they seemed important. He said he'd stop Yamamoto from hassling me if I did."

Yuugi wrinkled his nose at the name. "Oh, not that guy. You know, he stalked Bakura for months last year. Kept sending him little boxes of scented candles and stuff. It was freaky."

"Yes, I remember." Jounouchi headed for the door, pausing on the threshold. "Look, I'm sure nothing's going to happen to me. Don't get me wrong, Kaiba is hardly on my list of favourite people but I don't think he's like his dad. Or Yamamoto for that matter." He smiled briefly at Yuugi before leaving and shutting the door quietly behind him, a wave of inexplicable panic washing over him. Everything seemed suddenly very suspicious. Why would someone ask you to post letters and to meet them late in the evening like this?

He tried to push it out of his mind as he half jogged through the crowded rec room, hurrying out and heading down a stone walled and linoleum floored corridor that led to the north tower. He doubted that anything would _really _happen, and while he hated Kaiba he didn't think the guy would intentionally lead him into a situation so disturbing.

* * *

"I met your boyfriend."

Seto didn't bother to look up from his book at his father's voice, rather overused to his habits of imposing his own skewed, disturbed perspective onto his son.

"He's not my boyfriend," Seto murmured, a thin finger tracing over a passage of particular interest as he designated his father a small, undeserved portion of his attention. "We're not even friends."

Gozaburo gave a laugh of dismissal, unwilling to believe in the existence of regular friendships. "Of course he isn't. Because you're just so great at making friends, aren't you?" He had crossed the room now, kneeling on the thick bedspread and crawling over to his son. "Not even your brother wanted to stick around with you." Between his legs, Seto shut his eyes and tried to will away the intolerable feeling of his father kissing his neck. "You'd have thought that your only living flesh and blood would want to visit you." Above him, his father slowly moved his hands down his back. "And yet, here you are, and I'm your only company."

Seto pressed his head down into the bed sheets, pulling his arms up around his face. "Please don't do this; not now."

"Why? Does thinking about your brother not turn you on?"

"_No_," Seto spat, forgetting his manners in a moment of white fury.

"Well," his father slid his hands further down Seto's back, starting to pull the cotton trousers off. "Maybe he'd spend more time with you if were a little more intimate with him." He kissed down the bare skin, pausing to speak. "After all, Seto... What do you have to offer anyone but your body..."

Seto felt familiar hands move slowly over his naked flesh, weathered fingers rubbing down over him wherever there was heat. Immediately, like a glorious choir, he realised what time it was and his head shot up from the sheet. "It's six thirty. Jounouchi will be here in half an hour."

His father immediately stopped and Seto could feel him glaring into his back. "Why?"

With some difficulty Seto managed to turn himself around enough so he was facing his father. "You were the one who wanted us to cosy up and fuck. Isn't this what you wanted?"

Gozaburo clambered off his son and smacked him half playfully on the back of the head. "I didn't want it to happen when I'm in the middle of something. But fair enough, we had a deal. I won't interrupt your plans. What are you going to do with him?"

Seto returned to his book nonchalantly, knowing that his father would have to leave soon. "Light some candles. Pour some wine. See where the evening takes us." He laughed softly at that, an image probably light-years away from both his and Jounouchi's idea of a romantic date. "What are you going to do with the evening?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably head over to Sakura Junior School down the road. See what fresh young thing I can find."

"Have fun," murmured Seto, not really listening and waited quietly until he was sure his father had left the apartment. He sprung up from the bed and stretched, swiftly shedding his clothes like a second skin and moving over to the wardrobe, plucking out a pair of skin tight leather trousers and an almost brand new blue shirt. He had thousands of blue shirts, all in different shades. Steel and sky, Prussian and Persian, virtually indistinguishable from one another. His father liked buying him clothes, as though it would make up for years of torment and abuse if his son was able to pick between slightly different coloured dress shirts.

Seto moved leisurely around the spacious apartment, tidying away clothes and empty bottles of alcohol, folding bed sheets and repositioning ornaments. He lingered in the small but ostentatiously furnished kitchenette to casually pour a mix of various alcohols into a crystal decanter, relishing the familiar smells. He carried it along with two miniature glasses out and placed them at perfect angles on a silver platter, resisting the temptation to get completely wasted before Jounouchi arrived. Then he set about lighting the sets of myriad candles, some slim cream tapers and some thick blocks of elaborately decorated wax. The room was soon an overpowering mix of smoke and scents. It was another world, heady and rich, confusing your rationality and overriding it with the hot aromas filling your lungs.

Seto threw himself down onto the bed where the smoke wasn't as thick and stared up at the canopy. He watched individual trails of smoke coalesce above him, obscuring the pattern of stars that represented his birth sign. He closed his eyes and shut it out completely, waiting for Jounouchi's arrival.

* * *

Jounouchi hovered at the foot of the elegant spiral staircase that he knew led up to Kaiba's private quarters, resting his hand on the wrought iron railing. He'd never been in this part of the school before. There was no red brick or grey stone or filthy linoleum. Instead there were milk white marble floors and gleaming ivory walls, leaded and stained glass windows looking out over lush gardens lined with flower beds that Jounouchi had never seen before. Instead of the customary awards for excellence that the school had won lining the walls there were several sparsely hung paintings, unfamiliar to him but not unbeautiful.

He glanced back up the staircase which swiftly disappeared into a stone spiral. He hesitated, and then slowly began to climb.

He had expected an endless staircase taking him right up to the top of the school, and was rather surprised when it ended abruptly after only a dozen or so steps, confronting him with two dark red wood doors, one bearing a golden plaque reading 'study'.

Shrugging, he knocked on both doors, uncomfortable in the small space between the doors and the rough fall down the staircase.

There was silence from the study door, but he heard Kaiba's voice from behind the other one.

"Come in, it's open."

When Jounouchi reached out cautiously for the door handle and turned it, a barrage of overwhelming scented smoke hit him, making his eyes water before he even got into the room. He blinked heavily several times and managed to make out the general shape of the room before him. There was a large bed pushed against the wall in front of him and a wide window to its right. On the other side there were a stone arch leading to what looked like a kitchen, one closed door, and beside the bed he could glimpse through an open door a small lounge.

"Man, you couldn't open a window or something?"

"Sorry, they're all locked." Jounouchi blinked away the smoke and looked to the bed from where Kaiba's voice had sounded, realising that the blurry shape in the middle of it was actually Kaiba, curled up in the centre with a book beside him. "This keeps the room getting musty. I don't get out all that much, so it's nice to keep the place smelling nice."

Across from him Jounouchi lingered in the doorway, instantly unnerved by the scene. He could recall with perfect clarity a thousand instances of Kaiba and him fighting at their old school, squabbling and bickering with a certain established comradeship. They'd never shown hatred to one another and they'd never shown a need to be friends. Still, there had been something reassuring about the unchanging sniping attitude they held towards one another, and now he was being addressed as though they were old friends.

"Um…" Jounouchi hovered in the threshold, waiting for Kaiba to hand him a pile of letters - which he couldn't see anywhere - and bid him farewell. Instead Kaiba seemed to be expecting Jounouchi to start a conversation or something, smiling up at him pleasantly through the heavy smoke.

Kaiba's smile brightened, obviously thickly superficial even through the hanging fumes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like a drink? I don't get many opportunities to entertain guests so my social obligations are falling rather short."

Jounouchi wanted to ask 'who are you and what have you done with Kaiba Seto', but there was something undeniably sinister about the whole set up and he felt deeply unnerved. Kaiba's tone had, somewhere, a strain of desperation in it, like a victim trying to warn him of a hidden gunman. But he couldn't tell Kaiba any of that, and instead just nodded lopsidedly. "Sure, I'd like a drink."

Kaiba slipped off the silken bed sheets and moved over to a table of drinks, seemingly suspended on the tendrils of smoke. "I know alcohol is rather forbidden here, but I'm somewhat exempt from the rules," Kaiba said. Jounouchi moved slowly into the room and shut the door, staring unabashedly at the myriad fantastic ornaments and fine art and wall hangings covering the dark crimson walls.

"Here," Jounouchi turned to be confronted by a worryingly small glass filled with dark green swirling liquid. It was a basic rule of thumb with alcohol that he had learned the hard way: the smaller the glass, the stronger the drink. He took it awkwardly, half expecting Kaiba to snatch it away and laugh in his face, call him an idiot for thinking he was serious and kick him out. But he just let Jounouchi take the glass and reached for his own, downing it without hesitation. He waited expectantly for Jounouchi to do the same, and Jounouchi raised it slowly to his lips, pouring it into his mouth and immediately spitting it out again into the glass. For a brief instant everything seemed back to how it should be. Kaiba laughed at him, mocking his childish habits in Kaiba's adult world and seemed about to dismiss him from his distinguished, horribly rich presence. But the familiarity was gone just as his laughter died away. "Sorry, they're quite strong. I spend far too much time drinking this stuff that I think I'm quite numb to it."

Jounouchi set the glass down on the table and folded his arms decisively. "Look… This is weird."

"What's weird?" replied Kaiba, reaching for Jounouchi's discarded drink and knocking it back, not caring that it had just been in Jounouchi's mouth.

"This, you freak!" Jounouchi gestured at the room. "Why are you doing this? Why aren't you just giving me the stupid letters and throwing be out so I don't have to be in your debt?"

Kaiba looked honestly hurt for a moment but the expression was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with the same superficial pleasantness as before. "I'm sorry, I was only trying to be amiable."

"You're not being 'amiable'; you're being weird!"

"I…"

Kaiba caught himself, realising that if Jounouchi stormed off now then the whole elaborate plan would be ruined. He'd never been in a situation like this before, trying to seduce someone who didn't want to be seduced. Perhaps if it had been any human being except Jounouchi he might have stood a chance, but given their somewhat bristly history it didn't seem like making progress was going to be easy. He steeled himself and tried a different tact.

"Look, Jounouchi, it's not very often that I'm allowed to have people visit me, and I didn't want us to just fight and have you leave immediately." Jounouchi's expression had softened, and Kaiba realised that he had hit on the right note. He changed his posture, trying to appear casual, natural, and replaced the shallow smile with a more honest, approachable expression. "I thought we could talk or something."

For a moment Kaiba thought it was actually going to work, as Jounouchi looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and understanding. But it didn't last for more than a few seconds and he had soon resumed his hostile stance.

"Yeah, that's really touching and all, but I have actual friends I'd like to hang out with, who aren't all insane rich assholes." He paused awkwardly, glancing to the open door. "So… I think I'm going to leave."

Kaiba moved forward quickly, obstinately blocking the doorway and rapidly trying to come up with an excuse for him not to leave. "Please, Jounouchi, I think we got off on the wrong foot-"

"I don't care, alright?" Jounouchi moved forwards firmly, trying to force Kaiba out of the door. "Would you get out of the way already?"

"Jounouchi, I-" Kaiba stepped back a little as Jounouchi stepped forward again and then grabbed his arm in a last desperate attempt to stop him from leaving. Jounouchi stopped and looked between the grip on his arm and Kaiba's face in confused anger.

"Kaiba, I want to leave. Get out of the way."

"What about the letters?" Kaiba said sharply, aware that Jounouchi was on the verge of losing his composure. He could probably take the boy in a fight but he didn't want it to come to that. That certainly wouldn't help their relationship. "You promised-"

"I didn't promise anything. Now get _off_," Jounouchi shoved his arm forward, throwing Kaiba backwards where he fell against the hard stone wall of the tiny vestibule.

As he smashed into the wall Kaiba recalled in an instant a thousand small scuffles that he and Jounouchi had had, and how he had always insisted on gaining the upper hand. It blended with the memory of the even more numerous number of times that his father had pushed him, or beat him, or done anything he could violent enough to reassert power over his son. And there was something comforting in the distant memory of overpowering Jounouchi back at their old school, as though it were part of him that he'd forgotten.

He stepped forward swiftly, fingers curling around Jounouchi's white shirt collar and throwing him hard back into the room. He fell backwards, tripping and landing sprawled against the foot of the grandiose bed, staring up at his attacker with pain and fury. Kaiba smirked, a cruel, powerful smirk that he knew he'd inherited from Gozaburo and remembered gloriously how much more rewarding being dominant physically was than the pathetic strain of power he felt from seduction and mindless sex.

And then he realised what he had just done. In one impulsive action he'd ruined what little chance of friendship, seduction, manipulative romance they might have shared. He slammed the door closed brutally, hearing it crack on its hinges and stalked over to the crystal decanter, pouring out another two glasses and spilling the liquid over onto the platter.

"You know, _idiot_," he spat, refusing to look at the boy as he let even more of the drink overflow. "If you weren't so self-involved you wouldn't be in this mess." He took a breath then turned to face Jounouchi, who had picked himself up and was hovering warily between the bed and the door. Kaiba picked up a glass and leaned against the wall, regarding Jounouchi with a cold contempt somehow more comforting than the strange amicability he had been affecting previously. "Perhaps if you were less lazy and moronic you would have had a chance at being accepted into a college without riding on the back of this sordid place's reputation."

"As fun as your creepy mood swings are, Kaiba," said Jounouchi, deciding not to let his curiosity get the better of him and moving slowly towards the door, "I'm going."

"Do whatever," Kaiba said, downing his drink, aware that he wasn't quite sober enough to make rational judgements at the moment. "But just so you know, if you walk out that door my father is going to have you killed."

Jounouchi stopped moving and stared at Kaiba, unable to tell if that was the alcohol talking or the horrible dread he was feeling had some justification. He waited for Kaiba to say something else as the boy reached above his head to open a small crimson cupboard, extracting another bottle of clear liquid. He looked up at Jounouchi in affected expectation.

"Well, bonkotsu? Aren't you going to run along to your bed?"

His glare intensified into something of hateful disgust, unscrewing the bottle and taking a mouthful. Jounouchi hesitated, fear curling inside him, not fear of Kaiba but of why he was looking at him with such vehemence. What had he done to deserve that kind of hate?

"No," Jounouchi said quietly, staring rooted to the spot at someone he thought he knew so well just a few moments before. "I've changed my mind. I'm not going until you tell me what's going on."

"_Excuse me_?Why would I listen to anything you have to say?"

Jounouchi wanted to slap the bottle out of Kaiba's hands and land a punch on the boy's face, but once again that look of hatred held him back. No, not just hatred... Fear?

_What the hell would you have to be afraid of?_

"You were the one who wanted me to stay," he replied cautiously, adding as an afterthought, "You crazy freak."

Kaiba's lips twitched in a smirk at the insult. It was reassuring, that hostile banter so reminiscent of their time before this place. And just like those old days the burning desire to push Jounouchi's buttons, to test his limits, rose within him, only heightened and confused by the alcohol that was now starting to take effect.

"I thought you'd jump at the chance to spend some time around actual money." His smirk formed fully and he stared squarely at Jounouchi. "It's got to be a drastic change from that filthy apartment I know you live in with your father."

Jounouchi clenched his fists unconsciously and took a step towards Kaiba, his own anger overriding the power Kaiba's had had over him. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Any anyway, when I graduate I'm going to live with my mom."

"Oh, of course, you haven't lived with her since the divorce," said Kaiba evenly, not taking his eyes away from Jounouchi's, who took another step forward with his clenched fists. "Tell me, did she not visit because it was your father she couldn't stand, or did she not want to be around filth like you?"

Jounouchi's fist had struck out before insult properly registered, catching Kaiba on the jaw and sending his head back in a sharp crack against the wall. He stared at the other boy in shock in the aftermath of the loud ring of skull on stone, but he didn't even have time to regret his decision before Kaiba darted forwards, lunging at Jounouchi and snaking two sets of strong fingers around his neck and squeezing his throat, Kaiba's weight bringing them to the floor, his palms pressing against Jounouchi's windpipe and efficiently cutting off the boy's oxygen.

Trapped beneath Kaiba's legs, Jounouchi kicked desperately at anything he could, never quite dislodging Kaiba from his predatory pose straddling the other boy. The measured, smooth martial arts Kaiba knew by heart slipped from his mind, filling his usually expertly calm capacity for self-defence with a shock of red, his only thoughts of tightening his fingers around the twitching, beating veins and flesh, Kaiba's own pulse making his fingers throb as he strangled Jounouchi. The boy's face was red and his eyes losing focus...

As his vision blackened at the edges and a dizzy headiness set in, Jounouchi woozily thought, _I__s this how I die? On my back like a..._

His thoughts faded away into the silence of the room, no sounds save for the helpless, failing scuffle of Jounouchi's trapped legs and a faint choking sound he didn't even recognise as his own. Jounouchi stopped struggling.

Kaiba's face drained and he immediately released the boy, sliding away across the carpet and only stopping when he hit the wall, staring wide eyed at Jounouchi who immediately began to choke back air into his lungs. Kaiba's hand went to his own throat and clenched there, swallowing, remembering how many times his father had held him down against the bed and choked him until he'd surrendered, then kept his hands wrapped tightly around his son's throat and forced his breathing into shallow gasps as he claimed his victory. They didn't encourage throttling with your fingers in any of his martial arts classes; it was inefficient. That was all his father's influence.

Kaiba swallowed the shame and horror and the urge to apologise. "Are you alright?"

Jounouchi was still coughing severely, half-curled in a ball and clutching his throat, but he managed to force out an answer. "_Fuck. You._"

Kaiba sighed almost imperceptibly in return. Suddenly he felt very, very tired.

"You should go," he said heavily. "Before my father returns."

"You're just as-" Jounouchi broke off to cough heavily again, his whole body shaking as he retched and swallowed. "You're just as insane as he is."

More shame exploded inside him, but Kaiba kept his face calm and exhaled slowly. He crawled over the carpet until he sat next to the other boy, his eyes on the floor. Jounouchi tensed and leant away, but didn't get up.

_Perhaps he doesn't completely despise me, _ thought Kaiba, _or perhaps he's just too weak to stand._

"Jounouchi..." He tried to find the right words, every atom in his body reluctant to say this. "Your life is in danger. And it's my fault, and..." Even despite the shame burning through him the words were difficult to spit out. "...I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this."

"For _what_ to be like _what_?" said Jounouchi, his voice hoarse and one hand still massaging his neck.

Kaiba sighed again and stood, closing the door gently and then taking a more permanent seat next to Jounouchi, not quite able to meet the boy's eyes.

"I was telling the truth earlier, about getting Yamamoto off your back, but mentioning it rather... _upset _my father. I should have anticipated his overreaction, God knows he never takes anything reasonably, but I didn't think he'd go this far." He took another breath and closed his eyes. He hadn't discussed his father with anybody since... had he ever? With Mokuba, perhaps, but then he always had to skip the most important details. Mokuba knew nothing about the sexual abuse, nothing about the man's more violent proclivities. It had to stay that way. "He accused me of having feelings for you, which is ridiculous, and he decided to punish me by forcing me to seduce you." His breath hitched. He didn't like the way he was sure Jounouchi was staring at him. "If I fail, he'll have you killed. Or do it himself. I don't know."

He finally forced himself to look at Jounouchi, and strangely meeting the boy's eyes and seeing the fear there reassured him. Kaiba didn't feel scared, just a little sick and deeply ashamed. Now he felt superior.

"That's..." breathed Jounouchi. "Is that true?"

Kaiba felt a familiar sneer curl his mouth. "Does it fit the rumours? Does it shock you, or only confirm what you already suspected?"

Jounouchi said nothing. He dropped his hand from his neck and clasped his fingers in his lap, staring at them and fidgeting the intertwined digits.

"You really need to go, bonkotsu," he delivered the insult almost affectionately. "If my father catches you here-"

"He'll what? Kill me?" Jounouchi wrinkled his face in revulsion. "You can just tell him you managed to... seduce me... and that'll be that, right?"

Kaiba's heart felt heavy at the naïve optimism in the other boy's eyes. He shook his head slightly. "He'll want to see..." His voice was so soft, so faraway and hollow, words floating along his voice like driftwood. "See evidence of it. He'll want you to stay here. To perform."

Jounouchi clenched his jaw. "And if I leave?"

"I'll try to change his mind," said Kaiba, and Jounouchi could tell from his tone that it would be futile.

"And if you can't? Then what?"

"Then..."

Kaiba was saved from having to think of an answer as very faint, very distant, but rapidly approaching footsteps along a stone corridor could suddenly be heard. His eyes widened in fear before he could stop himself and Jounouchi's face blanched, reflecting Kaiba's fear.

As the footsteps began to climb the spiral staircase, Kaiba made a decision and swiftly moved over to Jounouchi, curling his fingers around Jounouchi's interlaced hands. Jounouchi looked up at him in shock but Kaiba's urgent expression silenced any coming rebuke.

"Please. Just pretend. Your life is on the line."

Jounouchi hesitated, then gripped the hands in his lap. Kaiba moved closer to him, pressing their sides against one another, then very gently rested his forehead against Jounouchi's. They didn't have to wait like that for long, as the footsteps paused outside the door, then it opened.

Kaiba Gozaburo stood in the doorway, looking between Kaiba and Jounouchi with an air of pleasant surprise, taking instant command of the small room. Kaiba drew away from Jounouchi guiltily, leaving only their hands intertwined, as though caught in the act of something.

"You're back early," he said almost shyly, in perfect control of his affected embarrassment. His father paused and looked Jounouchi up and down, then tore his gaze away to look at his son.

"I'm sorry, do I owe you an apology for my son, Katsuya? Did he get drunk and try to slut around with you?"

Jounouchi felt Kaiba's hands clench against his own, but the boy's face remained remarkably placid. It took Jounouchi a moment to realise this wasn't a rhetorical question, but it took him another moment to answer, desperate not to participate in whatever sick game was going on. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't-"

Kaiba Gozaburo cut him off. "Jesus, Katsuya, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Gozaburo?"

Jounouchi fumbled, glancing at the open door although he knew running was not an option. "Sorry, Gozaburo, I just… I should probably get back to my dorm."

"You want to leave so soon?" Gozaburo laughed, closing the door. "Why on earth would that be?"

"Well, it's late, and…" Jounouchi's words trailed off as Gozaburo casually laid a hand on the door handle, pushing it down and illustrating that the door would not open.

"It can't be opened from the inside, you see," he said, pulling a golden key out of his pocket. "Unless you have the key."

Jounouchi's hand moved subconsciously onto Kaiba's leg, clutching his knee, seeking some sort of protection.

"Besides, wouldn't you prefer to stay the night?" Gozaburo put the key back in his pocket and walked back over to Jounouchi, kneeling before him and his son, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. Jounouchi tensed, both hands clutching Kaiba, now completely and utterly terrified. "Or does my son repulse you? Don't worry, I can sympathise." He squeezed Jounouchi's shoulder tighter, almost painfully, and Jounouchi was forced to meet his gaze, his skin burning through his clothes at the unwanted contact. "He is rather... _used_. But don't worry, he's still good to fuck, if that's what you're worried about." His hand slipped down Jounouchi's arms, gently but firmly gripping the wrist of the hand on Kaiba's leg.

Jounouchi felt like his skin was shrinking, every molecule of his being crawling into itself and trying to hide. He didn't know what to do or say. To his surprise the terror he had been feeling had lessened slightly. For a moment he had been truly fearing for his life, and the doubt and fear of death had dissipated, leaving behind a cold dread as he tried to process what was going on.

Kaiba and Jounouchi's clenched hands had apparently not gone unnoticed to Gozaburo and he laid his own on top of them, causing Jounouchi to jump a little. "I'll tell you what. I'll leave you here, with Seto. You can get to know one another. You'll probably make friends much quicker if you're living under one roof. Sleeping in the same bed." He glanced at his son whose face was still expertly blank, and then looked back at Jounouchi with a frightening intensity. "You've got everything you could possibly want inside here. The finest luxuries. I know it's a little small, but you'll soon get used to it. We'll have your things brought up and you'll settle down in no time. There are no rules here, no regulations. Say what you want. Do what you want. Do _who _you want. Oh, and of course Seto will take care of you." He looked over at his son, smiling benignly but getting noting in return. He straightened. "I'll leave you two alone for a while. I've got some kid I picked up in my car. Shouldn't keep him waiting."

Gozaburo nodded curtly at the pair of them and drew his hand away, moving over to the door and unlocking it with the golden key, shutting it again and leaving the room as soon as he had arrived, his footsteps swiftly dying away.

For a long time nobody said anything. Jounouchi sat silent on the floor, feeling sick and confused. Next to him, Kaiba pulled his hands away and stood up, stretching his back which still ached dully from being thrown against the wall.

Jounouchi exhaled very slowly and his eyes drifted shut. "I don't understand this…"

"It's not that complicated," Kaiba said in clipped tones. "Even a mutt like you should be able to understand sex."

Jounouchi opened his eyes again, looking at Kaiba as though he was everything his foster father had just called him. "You're sick," Jounouchi spat, staring at the thick maroon carpet. "I'm getting out of here." He stood up, crossing over to the door and tugging at the handle. "I'm not going to become your toy. This is sick, I'm…" He kicked the door savagely when it didn't open, crossing over to the window, thickly leaded and with very little glass showing, where he rattled furiously at the handle. "You're disgusting. I don't care what filthy games you and your father are playing but I'm not going to be part of them."

"You don't have a choice," Kaiba replied icily, returning to his usual demeanour now his father had left. "You think if I could leave I wouldn't? Even if you somehow managed to get out of the school he would just hunt you down and drag you back." He smiled, thin-lipped and cold. "Then he'd punish you."

Jounouchi released the window and strode across the room, pushing past Kaiba and going into the bathroom. There were no windows in here, save for a tiny strip of glass a few inches wide near the ceiling. He walked out and went through the other door, finding himself in a miniature lounge with nothing but a sofa and a bookcase, above which was a huge window. He moved towards it and froze, staring down at the hundred foot drop below.

"Oh my God…" He leant forward, pressing his forehead against the cool glass and staring at the dusk covered concrete below. In the dim light he could vaguely make out the distant suburbs, a few hills, several roads, but separating him from those was the high fence blocking off the field, and between the field and the rest of the world, a huge stone wall ran around the perimeter of the school, or as much as he could see of it.

"I know," came a voice from behind him. "It's claustrophobic at first. But you'll get used to it."

Jounouchi felt a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away, pressed up against the corner of the tiny room. Behind him, Kaiba sighed in exasperation.

"Fine, have it your way. I was just trying to make things easier for you. You want to be enemies, we can be enemies. It's all the same to me."

"This can't be happening…" Jounouchi murmured, eyes sliding from the endless view of unabating darkness onto Kaiba, as though he'd never seen him before. He was pallid, dark shadows under his eyes and his hair mussed from the fight, looking ill and exhausted. It was as though the real Kaiba had waited outside, leaving this _other_ Kaiba to walk about in his place.

"That's exactly what I said," Kaiba replied, sitting down on the couch, the dark mauve suede contrasting horribly with his pale skin. "Six years ago. But it _is _happening and you just have to accept that." He smiled sarcastically. "At least you've got me."

"Yeah, that's a great comfort." Jounouchi said feebly, sinking down onto the floor and leaning against the bookcase. "You're just the sort of person I want around in this situation."

"Well, I'm all you've got." Kaiba replied curtly. "So you better get used to me." He paused, staring at Jounouchi with mild intrigue and a depthless weariness. "I'm tired. I'm going to shower and go to bed. You can stay up if you want, but there's not much to do. I think a long night's sleep would be good for you."

"Where do I sleep?"

"In the bed," Kaiba said as though this were perfectly obvious. "We all sleep there. It might be a bit tight now that there are three of us-"

"Wait, stop," Jounouchi said quickly. "Your father sleeps in the same bed as you? As _us_?"

"Obviously," Kaiba said in a muted voice. "He's a psychotic pervert and I'm his little whore. What did you expect?"

"I…" Jounouchi felt a little lost for words, the jumbled fragments of his new future rearranging themselves in his mind. "You don't like him, then?"

"God no," Kaiba half spluttered, looking at Jounouchi in disgust. "I hate him. Utterly. Completely. How could you even think…?"

Jounouchi shrugged. "I just assumed. Sorry."

Kaiba nodded, looking at him in disbelief. "Right." He stood up rather suddenly, steadying himself against the wall. "Head rush." He turned out of the room, moving into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. The sound of running water soon followed.

Jounouchi hadn't really forgotten the situation, but now Kaiba had left it all came rushing back again. It seemed unreal, like he was watching a film and any moment now the credits would roll and it would all be a horrible, practical joke. It was _ludicrous. _Ridiculous. He laughed suddenly, high pitched and hysterical. None of this was actually happening, it couldn't be. He stood up slowly, drifting into the bedroom and over to the door, tugging at the handle again. It still wouldn't open. He looked around for a key, somewhat dazed. There wasn't one anywhere that he could see, so he pulled at the door again. Why wasn't it opening? He had classes to go to tomorrow… had to get up early… he couldn't stay here…

Then he started to cry.

Jounouchi hated crying, and he never did it. He'd been in a gang, he'd been an asshole, he'd been practically a thug. People like that didn't cry.

_But then, _protested a little voice in his head. _Little boys don't become whores when they go to school, either. And look where you are._

He took a deep breath and turned away from the door, walking over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it, tired and upset. He had never wanted to go home as much as he did right now. But that was completely out of the question, he knew, so he slowly started to unbutton his shirt, shrugging off his jacket awkwardly at the same time. He stripped down to his boxers, then left his clothes loosely folded on a small footstool, covered in tassels. He pulled back some of the bed sheets until he discovered the surprisingly dirty mattress. He folded back some of the sheets so he had something clean to lie on and climbed into the bed, shivering against the cold fabric.

A few minutes later Kaiba walked back in, holding up a towel wrapped loosely around his body with one hand and using the other to rub a smaller towel through his hair. Jounouchi turned away, lying facing the window. The incense had all burned down and some of the more pathetic candles had melted down completely. He heard Kaiba pull on some item of clothing and then start blowing out the candles and turning off the lamps. Jounouchi's head was suddenly covered with something light and grey, and he sat up to discover it was a t-shirt.

"Thought you might be cold," Kaiba said without feeling, dressed in black cotton pants and a loose dark shirt. Jounouchi stared at the t-shirt as though it didn't belong. It wasn't Kaiba's size, a little too small for Jounouchi but not enough to be uncomfortable, and it had 'shazam' written on it in loud yellow font. It was completely out of place in this very grave, lavish room of crimson and silence, and Jounouchi pulled it on like it was an oxygen mask in a room of poisonous gas. He shuffled back down under the covers, watching Kaiba climb in next to him. The only light came from three small candles floating in blue glass bowl of water, drifting leisurely across the shimmering surface.

"Try to get some sleep, Jounouchi," said Kaiba, facing away from him. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow." There was a few seconds of silence, and then: "Goodnight, Jounouchi."

"…night, Kaiba."


	4. Rehearsals

**Rewrite: I've deleted a few superfluous plot elements and made some small tweaks.**

* * *

Jounouchi slept badly that night, sliding in and out of vivid and incomprehensible dreams. Several times he would slip into unconsciousness only to be jarred awake by the monochrome, unfamiliar room, trying to remember where he was. Then the sick tide of realisation would flood through him and he would lie back down again, turning over a pillow or moving his feet to a cooler part of the bed.

Occasionally he would brush against Seto's body, lying close enough to him to hear his breathing, and would feel him shift away from the touch: a silent sign that he couldn't sleep either. Jounouchi wanted to talk, to be reassured, to be told that everything was going to be alright. But he got nothing.

Eventually Jounouchi woke up to a brighter room, cool blue light filtering in through the leaded glass. He looked around for a clock but couldn't see one in the dim light of the approaching dawn. He sat up and strained through the darkness, trying to make one out.

"What is it?"

Seto's voice beside him, slow and tired, eyes pale in the strip of greyish sunrise illuminating his face.

"I wanted to know what time it was," Jounouchi replied quietly, his skin prickling in the cold September morning. Gone was the heat of the night and the itchy warmth of the bed sheets. His toes were ice cold.

"It'll be a little after six," Seto said quietly, readjusting himself on the pillow and closing his eyes. "The sun just rose and sunrise is meant to be at about six."

"Didn't you sleep either?" Jounouchi slid back into the comforting lukewarm sheets, seeking warmth and getting nothing for his efforts.

"I slept. A little. I never sleep much. I was waiting for my father to come back, but he never did." He paused, unsure of whether to divulge this information to his enemy. "I don't like going to sleep knowing that he's going to… creep up on me." He smiled, more to himself than for Jounouchi's benefit. "Go back to sleep."

"What's the point?" said Jounouchi emptily. "It's not like I have anywhere to go. Not any more."

Seto remained silent for a moment before answering. "Hn. I suppose." They were both exhausted, but sleep seemed a deathly universe that neither wanted to venture into. "Try to sleep."

Jounouchi hesitated then sank back into the mattress, shifting a little closer to Seto where the bed was warmer. He didn't seem to mind or care. _I bet he's used to that, _Jounouchi thought cynically. _I wonder if Yamamoto ever fucked him. I wonder if he liked it._

He rolled over, staring up at the canopy, eyes tracing over what he suddenly realised to be the Scorpio constellation. He shut his eyes and tried to picture those stars, so far away from this little bed, which he and Seto shared.

His thoughts slipped away from the logical and sleep finally took over. Beside him Seto watched Jounouchi's face slacken and his breathing become gentle and rhythmic. There were a lot of things he didn't like about Jounouchi, from his brash attitude to his mindless optimism. But all those things seemed to have been stripped away, leaving this frightened little boy that he couldn't help but pity. Jounouchi was a nice person. Seto didn't know many nice people.

Already unable to sleep and exasperated, Seto shifted over in the bed, sliding up to Jounouchi's side so that their faces were nearly touching and studied his sleeping face. He took in all the minute details, gazing in silence at the calm expression of this boy who was now his responsibility. He was going to see this serene face wracked with all kinds of emotions, twisted in pain and humiliation, relaxing in unwanted pleasure, all to be inflicted by him if he could only convince his father to leave the boy alone.

He couldn't explain quite why, but he desperately wanted to keep Jounouchi safe from his father. The boy was a shining reminder of what life could have been like if things had turned out differently for him. He had fought so hard to protect Mokuba, to his father's consummate irritation. He would ask his son why he bothered to protect something that was of no use to you. Seto had never given him an answer, he didn't need to justify it. So long as he protected his brother, it would all be alright. He wondered lazily if Jounouchi could protect either of them. He doubted it. Seto was always the protector, the knight in shining armour, soiled and pathetic though he was. No, the only person who had ever looked out for him was…

Seto didn't want to admit that Gozaburo was the closest thing he had ever had to a guardian. He didn't want that to be his only option. He wanted someone who cared, _really _cared, not just in the suffocative, controlling way that Gozaburo did. He doubted he would get any comfort from Jounouchi, however. The boy didn't understand how physicality and intimacy worked for him. When Seto wanted sex he would seek it out in someone where it would have no consequence, someone he didn't care about. He hardly ever experienced non-sexual intimacy, even spending time with his brother came at the cost of _servicing_ his father later. Jounouchi had friends who he could throw himself at for a brief hug or some comforting words whenever he wanted. Seto had no one. Sometimes, when he was in an amiable mood, Gozaburo would permit his son a few moments of honest, platonic intimacy, but they were rare and unremarkable in their affection. It was never loving, just _allowed._

He closed his eyes somewhat stubbornly and tried, in vain, to fall asleep, breathing in the rich scent of freshly cut grass and dirt and muck and unrestrained nature that clung to Jounouchi after long hours spent outside. Seto had forgotten what grass smelt like.

* * *

Jounouchi woke up brokenly, staccato voices worming their way through his drowsing subconscious. Like two sticks, being snapped again and again next his ears and not allowing him to keep sleeping. In his sluggish state he wondered if two of the boys in his dormitory were arguing, and then ordered his reluctant eyes to open to discover who they were.

The vision of dark red walls, silken bedding and empty shot glasses hit him like a wave of icy water, and with his blood sinking through his body into his feet he realised where he was and to whom the voices belonged. He pushed himself up a little so that he could see over to the other side of the room. Next to the door Seto was pressed against the wall, speaking rapidly with a familiar hostility through hissing teeth. Standing over him, holding Seto's shoulder against the wall with unmoving fingers dug deep into his son's flesh stood Gozaburo, not troubling to keep his voice down and shouting at an uncomfortable volume into his son's face.

"_You _were the one who asked me to look after him," spat the former, sheet lightning flashes of pain crossing his face as his father dug his fingers in deeper to his shoulder.

"That does not apply to me, and you know it. I will do what I want with him. That's my right."

"No, you do not have the right to screw with people's lives like this, no matter how messed up your idea of reality is." Seto's voice rose in volume, cresting at its younger pitch and straining as he tried to match his father's tone.

"Sometimes," Gozaburo's voice had dropped dramatically, practically whispering as he put his other hand around Seto's neck, holding him firmly against the wall and closing the distance between their faces so that their lips brushed as he spoke. "You seem to forget your place." He paused to tighten his grip for a moment, Seto letting out a choking sound, his face reddening, before his father continued. "And yes, I know you haven't had a new toy in a while, but your impetuous enthusiasm is not going to sit with me for much longer. I have been _extremely _lenient so far with your attitude, but it is starting to wear a little thin." His voice grew even quieter, so that Jounouchi could barely make out what he was saying. "He is not your lover. He is not your master. He will never be your friend." He moved his lips even closer, half kissing the boy choking in his grasp. "That's for me only. And if you don't start showing me the proper respect, I will _get rid _of him. I don't care if he ends up rotting in the trash with the flies eating at him. So long as you know your place."

Jounouchi shifted in the bed and the springs creaked, breaking the near silence from Seto and his father. Gozaburo looked over at Jounouchi and, seeing that he was awake, released his grip. Seto slid down the wall retching and clutching at his neck, breathing quickly and shallowly.

"Good morning, Katsuya," Gozaburo said cheerfully, as though the whole event hadn't occurred. "We were just talking about you. Did you sleep well?"

Jounouchi tore his eyes away from Seto on the floor, raking invisible lines through the air as his pupils flickered onto the older man. "Yeah," he said quietly, his eyes meandering back to the huddled figure in the corner, slowly regaining its composure.

"Wonderful," Gozaburo replied, bending over to help Seto to his feet. "Alright now?" he murmured, as not so much a question but as a subtle instruction for Seto to stop coughing and return to normal. The boy nodded and stood up with the assistance, trying very hard not to look like he was avoiding everybody's eyes.

Gozaburo walked over to the bed casually, sitting inches away from where Jounouchi lay as though they had known one another for years. "I must apologise for my son's behaviour," he said quietly, though not quiet enough so that Seto wouldn't hear him. "He can be an arrogant little bitch at times." He paused expectantly, as though awaiting an affirmation. Jounouchi nodded his head awkwardly, sneaking surreptitious glances at Seto who seemed to have recovered and was staring determinedly at the floor until his father stopped discussing him. "So, what would you like for breakfast?" Gozaburo continued, the unpleasant tone discarded as soon as it had come. "Seto would never admit it, but he's an excellent cook."

"Oh," Jounouchi said quietly, as though this were a perfectly normal fact brought into a perfectly normal conversation.

"Absolutely. What would you like for breakfast? Anything you want. What do you want?" The man spoke somewhat excitedly, as though looking forward to doting on his new toy. In the corner, Seto pushed himself away from the wall and drifted slowly into the kitchenette. He always made his father's meals, ever since he moved here the previous year. He did everything, from cooking and cleaning to talking and fucking. He had been fine-tuned over the years to be at his father's disposal. He'd stopped caring a long time ago.

"Well?" Gozaburo pressed, his voice sharpening again. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I…" Jounouchi floundered, not feeling remotely hungry. Only tired and scared, the fear within him having reduced itself to a gentle ebb and flow, rhythmically lapping against his bones and reminding him of his situation. "Pancakes?" he said pathetically, the first thing that came to mind. This seemed to satisfy Gozaburo, and he rose from the bed and completely forgot that Jounouchi existed.

"Pancakes it is, Seto," he stood up and walked towards the door, extracting that familiar key from a pocket. "I'm going to work. Some of us actually have a school to run." He twirled the key freely in the lock and opened the door, turning back and grinning vilely at his son. "You have class at eight. Don't get too wrapped up in your lover." The door clicked closed as he left, and Jounouchi let out a breath that he didn't realise he had been holding.

"I'm not making you pancakes," Seto said scathingly from the kitchenette, as though this was something Jounouchi had personally ordered him to do.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Jounouchi replied, somewhat apologetically.

"Good," Seto said firmly and then, after a short, awkward silence: "Although I'm going to heat up some chicken salad if you want some of that."

"Sure. Thanks," Jounouchi added, remembering his long forgotten manners.

"Don't thank me. It's not a favour." said Seto, opening the fridge and extracting a plate of film-wrapped food befire sliding it in the microwave.

Jounouchi unconsciously rubbing his hand over the warm spot where Seto had lain. "So…" He said, realising what he was doing and removing his hand. "Where does your dad disappear off to?"

"Elsewhere," Seto's voice was clipped and obviously didn't want to discuss it, but that only served to further intrigue Jounouchi.

"Meaning where?"

"Among the higher echelons of society."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jounouchi, drop it." He folded his arms and stared over at the other boy. "There are things that go on here that you're better off not knowing about."

"I'm not a child," Jounouchi said, irritated, and sitting up straighter in the bed. "Stop treating me as if I can't handle whatever it is that's in store for me."

"You _can't _handle it, Jounouchi, stop pretending that you're…" He trailed off as though he had suddenly decided against what he was going to say, but this only annoyed Jounouchi more.

"Like I'm what?" He shouted, feeling the sudden rush of years of hatred of Kaiba Seto flood through him again.

"Like you're _me_. You don't just wake up one day and be able to deal with every terrible thing that could possibly happen to you. You can't cope with this and you need me to protect you."

"I don't need you to-"

"Yes you do, bonkotsu." Seto sighed exasperatedly and put his fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry that you're going to have to put up with me taking care of you, but that's just the way it is. And I'm not going to sit back and let you get yourself tortured and killed just because you feel that I'm threatening your masculinity, or whatever idiotic issues you've got."

Seto sighed slowly, then turned around to pull open the microwave door. "Look," he said heavily, walking out of the kitchenette with the plate of artfully prepared food, steam rising from it. "You don't need to think about this. It isn't important yet. Trust me. Just eat your breakfast and we can deal with it afterwards."

"Well, I want to talk about it now," Jounouchi said, the constant fear that had temporarily dissipated rising again. "And I don't trust you."

Seto simply ignored him and handed him some chopsticks. Jounouchi took it slightly savagely and tore into the meal.

"Can you at least tell me how long I'm going to be kept here?" he asked.

Seto didn't show any interest in the food and remained standing, staring vacantly towards the balcony window, shrouded as it was in the heavy drapes. "It depends. Until he gets bored with you."

"I don't understand it," said Jounouchi, unwilling to admit how good the food was. "If he's so jealous of you, why does he want me here?"

Seto opened his mouth and for a moment looked about to answer, but then he shut it again and went back to his blank staring. "It's complicated, bonkotsu."

"And you're not going to tell me, right?"

"No," he replied with finality, still not looking at Jounouchi.

"Fine, have your stupid secrets. I don't want to know about your sick living arrangements anyway."

He went back to the dish, so focused on the meal that he didn't notice that Seto was finally looking at him, face blank as ever, save for the clenched jaw.

* * *

"There's food in the fridge, alcohol in the cupboards, the remote for the TV is around somewhere, I don't know where-"

"Wait, there's a TV?"

"Yes, behind a panel. It'll open if you can find the remote. Books are through there; if you need writing equipment there's some around here somewhere, and don't go through any of my things." Seto paused at the door of the apartment, trying to find something else to instruct Jounouchi about. "Try not to break anything. I'll be back by six."

"How come," Jounouchi said, lying on the bed and pretending to read a book that he didn't understand. "You get to leave and I don't."

"Because," Seto sighed exasperatedly and leaned against the wall. "I have lessons to attend-"

"So do I."

"Yes, but my father doesn't care about your education."

Jounouchi shut the book with a violent slam and glared across the room. "So what, I've got a scholarship at the most respected school in the country and I don't even get to attend lessons?"

"You'll get the highest of qualifications," Seto looked up suddenly and Jounouchi could hear footsteps moving up towards the locked door. "If you survive, that is." He laid his hand on the handle and after the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock on the other side he pulled it open, revealing a man in his mid thirties, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie. Seto stepped out the door and moved to shut it again. "I'll see you later."

Jounouchi watched as the door shut behind him, and immediately set himself loose on the apartment.

* * *

Seto's bedside table yielded little of interest: some crinkled photographs in a wooden box of a man and a woman, a small boy with wild black hair he recognised as Seto's brother, and a faded photo of a boy a few years younger than Seto. There was a diary that, to Jounouchi's annoyance, was written in an indecipherable code (a seemingly childish act that Jounouchi found amusing) and a bottle of unremarkable sleeping pills. He picked cautiously through Gozaburo's bedside table, moving the empty bottles aside delicately but eventually gave up on the expedition, not wanting to brave the pile of both empty and unopened condom wrappers that strewed the drawer.

He pulled back the sheets that hung lopsidedly over the edge of the bed and peered underneath it, pulling out various items that had been discarded over time. Abandoned clothes, trash, books, and then with a jolt of excitement Jounouchi's fingers closed on something more substantial. He extracted the object and found it to be a leather bound case, locked but with the key still inside. He turned it and lifted the lid, revealing a very old fashioned set of what looked like nineteenth century doctor's equipment, but on closer inspection were a collection of scalpels, small knives, scissors, and a bottle of iodine. His hand hovered over the ivory handle of an item before he realised that each blade and sharp edge was coated in dark brown blood, crisp and months old. He stared at them for a few moments before replacing the box deep in the recesses of the underside of the bed, wondering to which of the two Kaibas it belonged and its purpose.

After scouring the room for nearly an hour the only thing he found of interest were the stack of letters that Seto had originally asked him up here to deliver. They looked like they had been left over from a past war, yellowed and written in elegant, tiny characters and bound with string. With nothing better to do he sat on the bed and untied them, idly reading through the bottom letter, dated six years ago and with slightly more untidy penmanship. Apparently he had been writing them much longer than he had been at the school.

It contained a surprising amount of sentimentalism from someone as cold and emotionless as Seto, whole passages devoted to explaining how much he missed his younger brother. It seemed all very trivial stuff but Jounouchi kept reading. He had little else to do.

As he delved deeper into the letters a quivering uneasiness had started to take over him. He started to wonder if these letters were ever meant to be sent at all as they seemed more and more like a diary. Accounts of school life had rapidly descended into disturbing ramblings, the dull accounts of what he had eaten for dinner replaced with strange, seemingly nonsensical comments. A strong hold of discomfort wound up his spine as he tried to breeze over sickeningly detailed accounts of Seto at ten years old, recounting everything his foster father had done to him the night previously. He had clearly never had any intention of anyone reading these particular letters. Jounouchi wondered if he had simply forgotten to sort through the pile when he suggested mailing them or if he had never intended Jounouchi to send them.

Sometimes the letters would stop making sense all together and the handwriting would stop forming neat little lines and stretch over the paper in a cascade of jumbled characters, misspellings and small spots of blood.

Jounouchi finally threw the letters down and tied them back up after coming across a painstakingly detailed description of his father inviting another man to join them and the events that had ensued. It made him sick, and not because he didn't like imagining these things happening to somebody but, to his shame, that they would happen to him. He didn't want to end up like the boy in the insane ramblings strewing the faded paper.

* * *

After working for most of the day without a break, Seto pulled himself out of the chair he had been sitting in and stretched, seeing that the clock read nearly eight o' clock. His tutor had left hours ago after spending some time murmuring formulae and methods into Seto's ear as the boy sat in his lap, one hand running delicately over Seto's as he wrote down what he was told and the other slowly stroking his thigh. Seto didn't mind too much. It was just flesh. Flesh on flesh, rubbing against each other. It didn't really distract from his studying and that was all that mattered.

He idly realised that he was supposed to have returned to the apartment at six to join his father and Jounouchi in whatever evening activities they would attend to. In the extra two hours he had spent drifting between checking the accounts for the school and working on trigonometry he hadn't paid much thought to what might have happened in his absence, not remotely aware of his father walking up the steps to the apartment and expecting to find his son for some… light afternoon relief and only to find Jounouchi.

* * *

Gozaburo had stopped in the apartment doorway and been about to address Seto when he realised that his son wasn't there, a scrawny blond boy sitting in his place.

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "It's you."

Jounouchi had never managed to locate the remote and was reclining on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and daydreaming. He looked up sharply.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Seto's still not back, then?" He closed the door behind him, hanging up his jacket and then walking over to the bed, sitting next to Jounouchi who was still too frightened to edge away.

"No… But he said he would come back soon. He said six." It was now a quarter past.

"He always says six." The man leaned forwards conspiratorially. "He never means it. He says he's going out till ten PM and no later and I hear him knocking on the door at three in the morning, drunk and smelling of whatever lonely, desperate fool he managed to lure into bed. But what are you going to do, hm?" He smiled, more to himself than Jounouchi. "Boys will be boys."

"Mm," was all Jounouchi could manage, swallowing abruptly. Gozaburo looked back up at him, his gaze having wandered over to the window.

"So, here we are. All alone. Maybe you and I should get to know one another if we're going to be spending so much quality time together." He lay back a little on the bed, his face inches away from Jounouchi's. He rested his hand casually on the boy's knee, as if this was something anyone would do when beginning a conversation. "Do you know," he murmured, Jounouchi's blood screaming through his ears in terror as Gozaburo's fingers trailed over his thigh. "That when you were asleep this morning Seto said to me…" He moved his face even closer and Jounouchi forced himself not to lean away, his face hot with the man's breath. "He said that he would do _anything _with you, or to you, so long as I didn't fuck you. What a remarkable child." He drew back, his hand falling away and Jounouchi breathing a silent sigh of relief. "He really is _something_, isn't he?" He looked down at Jounouchi again and grinned, Jack-o-lantern like and hollow. "Do you think he's sexy?"

Jounouchi had assumed this was another rhetorical question but when Gozaburo didn't continue he struggled to answer it. "Uh… I don't… Well, I'm not gay."

"That's besides the point. Do you think he's attractive? Is he beautiful? Do you think there are people in the world who think of him when they fuck their lovers?"

Jounouchi remained quiet, the man seeming to have got himself onto a roll. He found himself wondering as well, if there were people out there who fantasised about the things he would be forced to experience.

"I always thought he was gorgeous. Not just physically but… everything about him. When I first met him at the orphanage and he had the nerve to challenge me to a game of chess… He looked so desperate, so cynical, I couldn't imagine seeing that in a boy his age. But oh, it just… all melts away when you're inside him. He stops being an obsessive, neurotic little bitch and just… lets you. He revels in it, soaking it in. Even when he was younger and it used to make him cry… There was something glorious about it." He looked up sharply and smiled that same empty smile. "You'll see what I mean very, very soon."

* * *

Despite the situation that he was in and the mind numbing terror that had been rising and sinking steadily within him over the past day, the principal emotion Jounouchi was feeling now was boredom.

It seemed that he had run out of adrenaline and, although his muscles were sore and aching from hours of stress and worrying, he wasn't able to work up the same level of fear he'd been experiencing throughout the day. There had been no more sudden bouts of violence from Gozaburo or unsettling occurrences and things had started to seem more and more normal. The day had tapered off into a comfortable and very tedious evening. Jounouchi was perched on the edge of the bed, alternating between pretending to read the book he had been given and staring off into space. For the past four hours Seto had been silently turning the pages of a hefty green volume, curled up on the window seat, while his father was also reading in silence in a chair. Jounouchi had tried, really tried, to muster some level of interest in the book Seto had handed him (saying "You'll like this one; it has sport in it"). It was dull.

He yawned loudly and obviously, stretching himself out from where he was sat on the edge of the bed and then curling back into his position. He wanted someone to do _something _interesting. He had asked if he could go and fetch some of his possessions but had been vehemently denied this proposition by Gozaburo. As he shifted position Seto pointedly ignored him, but Gozaburo glanced up. Jounouchi met his eyes, his boredom bringing out an old level of defiance that he thought he had lost.

"Is something troubling you, Katsuya?"

Jounouchi smiled flatly and went back to staring at the book, feeling protected by the atmosphere of domesticity that had set in. "No, not at all."

Seto's eyes flicked up from his book but he remained perfectly still. Across from him, Gozaburo's expression did not shift. "Because you look unutterably bored."

"No," He turned a page to emphasise the falsity of this statement. "I'm not bored."

"Oh?" Seto could hear the tone in his father's voice, the fury at not being feared and respected. But he couldn't do or say anything, so he just remained there, tensing his muscles and relaxing them slowly. He watched, voiceless and helpless, as his father shut the book he was reading and balanced it on the arm of the chair. "Well then, let's do something more exciting." Jounouchi still didn't sense that tone that Seto knew so well, the muted siren signally approaching danger. "Seto, get on the bed."

Seto watched as Jounouchi looked up sharply, recognising the sudden fear in his face. He was very poor at disguising his emotions. Seto's face was expressionless as he laid down his own book and moved over to the bed, sitting down next to Jounouchi and wondering what degree of caution he should exercise so he would neither frighten the boy further or infuriate his father.

"Hm." Gozaburo surveyed them slowly, leaning back in the scarlet leather chair. He met his son's eyes briefly and nearly smiled, but not quite. "Seto, put your hand on Katsuya's knee."

Seto didn't hesitate. But he pretended to for Jounouchi's benefit. He pretended that it aroused some humiliated emotion in him to lay his perfectly manicured hand on Jounouchi's knee. He liked how it looked, his tapered fingers complimenting the ridge of Jounouchi's kneecap. He doubted either Jounouchi or his father noticed this small attractiveness.

"Good boy," Gozaburo murmured, and Seto didn't need to watch to see him undo his belt. "Kiss him."

Seto hesitated again, moving his face a few inches towards Jounouchi's and then stopping for a moment, trying to create the right impression of feigned hesitancy, before moving his lips to Jounouchi's.

Jounouchi flinched slightly, but there was nowhere for him to go and a moment later it was happening. He'd been kissed a few times before, but never like this, strangely soft lips pressed against his own. Jounouchi stared, immobile, for the full five seconds he was being kissed at Seto, the other boy's eyes shut. He drew away and ran his tongue briefly over his lips, his hand still on Jounouchi's knee. In the corner, Gozaburo gave a snort of contempt.

"Drop the chaste bullshit, Seto; I told you to kiss him."

Seto threw his father a disgusted expression before looking back to Jounouchi, moving to kiss him again. This time he opened his mouth around Jounouchi's lips, the moisture on Seto's lips touching Jounouchi's. Jounouchi swallowed, uncomfortable and scared, his lips passive and unresistant as Seto pushed his tongue between them. He felt it move over his own tongue, cautious but not unenthusiastic. He knew Seto was being polite and gentle with him, and it both annoyed him to be patronised so and reassured him that he hadn't been completely abandoned.

Seto moved his face closer to Jounouchi's, drawing his lips together before opening them again, kissing the boy with a tenderness he hadn't had to exercise in a long while.

"Move your hand higher up his leg," Gozaburo said quietly, watching them intently.

Jounouchi's face flooded with crimson shame as he let out a whimper, fighting impossibly hard the urge to pull away as Seto's hand moved slowly up his thigh, the skin beneath his trousers burning with furious reluctance and a dim carnal desire. Seto's hand stopped at the top of his thigh, the fingers curling around his leg. Jounouchi's breathing grew heavier, his skin scorched with a ferocious red flush.

From the corner, Gozaburo's voice was thick with arousal. "Higher."

Seto gave up procrastinating and shifted his hand to between Jounouchi's legs, rubbing his palm slowly back and forth. Jounouchi felt tears well up in his eyes and eventually spill over as his legs moved slightly apart, Seto's hand clenching between them. He could barely hear Gozaburo's voice over the thudding of the blood in his ears, but he knew what Seto was being told to do as he felt Seto's lips moved away from his mouth and started kissing along his jaw line, stopping on his neck. Seto's other hand slid around his waist, running over his back and under his shirt. Jounouchi had closed his eyes, silently begging for it to be over as his legs moved even further apart to allow Seto's hand access.

Seto moved his hand up Jounouchi's back, committing to memory every little concave and convex of his spine, and finding that he was actually getting aroused. He had forgotten about his dislike of Jounouchi. He had forgotten about Jounouchi completely. This was just some young boy's body that he was going to fuck or be fucked by. He had stopped listening to his father and began to move his lips further down the boy's neck, reaching the pale white collar of the school uniform. He peeled it back, the hand between the boy's legs moving away to undo the buttons. Seto listened as the boy's breathing grew more erratic, trying to pretend he didn't want Seto to keep touching him.

With the shirt undone Seto could kiss the boy's chest, climbing on top of him and forcing the boy to lie back on the bed, one fine track of saliva being drawn down his chest as Seto's lips moved to his stomach. He slipped backwards off the bed, the boy's legs opening as Seto fell between them, moving his mouth to the hot cloth between his thighs, being able to memorise a perfect trace image of the boy's most intimate area with his lips. His hands moved onto the tops of the boy's thighs, fingers clawing slowly along them, rubbing up and down as his tongue moved forwards along the fabric and licked slowly over the hardness against his mouth. He could hear the boy's loud breathing crest with a quiet note of pleasure at this and he licked him again, detachedly aware that he was beginning to enjoy himself.

A phone rang.

Seto faltered, the rhythmic electronic drone jarring his smooth movements. In front of him, Jounouchi's breathing had started to relax. Seto moved into a kneeling position, a crashing ocean of shame and guilt sliding through him. He shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have let his mind drift so much. He had forgotten who it was he was about to fuck and probably wouldn't have cared if he had continued. He fell back, his head down, slowly regulating his breathing.

Across the room, Gozaburo answered the phone. He was angry, unspent, getting dressed as quickly as he could. "Fuck… What? Who? Fine, I'll be there. No, don't… Don't shoot him or anything. Wait until I get there." He didn't look up at the two boys as he left the room, locking the door behind him as though he had never been there.

Jounouchi listened to the door close and the footsteps fade away, then exhaled agonisingly slowly. He kept his legs apart, wondering why he hadn't put them back. As much as he tried to think about what a relief the phone call had been and how wonderful it wasn't he didn't have to be debased and humiliated, all he could really think was that between his thighs he was scorching for Seto to put his mouth back. He sat up, slowly, and looked down at Seto on the floor who had been staring at the ground but met his eye when he looked at him.

"You alright?"

Jounouchi swallowed, wanting to speak clearly. "Yeah." He could still hear the arousal in his voice. So could Seto.

"Should I leave?" Seto spoke flatly, not caring what the answer was. "Or do you want me to continue?"

Jounouchi's blood leapt against the walls of his veins and arteries, the capillaries burning through the skin at the thought of 'continuing'. But he didn't say anything. He couldn't, he had pride. It didn't matter that he didn't say anything, of course, because Seto knew that his shamed silence meant that he wanted him to keep going. But… That wouldn't be right. He stood up slowly, standing between Jounouchi's knees.

"I'm going to go shower." He paused. "We should go to sleep."

* * *

Seto turned around and walked into the bathroom quickly, wanting to get away from that room. _You stupid fucking slut. _He took his clothes off, his hand shaking almost imperceptibly and turned the shower on. _Sticking your mouth between some kid's legs, you disgusting whore._

The water helped, the voice in his head quieting under the rage of the water against his face. He thought immediately of his brother, the ultimate cure-all, forgetting about what he had just done. He didn't need to think about what had just transgressed, not until tomorrow, at least. They would be calmer then…

"…in body and spirit," Seto murmured, finishing his thoughts out loud. He smiled then, school boy smile, proud that he had managed to successfully pleasure another human being. Then the moment of immaturity was gone and he began to scrub efficiently at his skin with a rough sponge, no longer feeling particularly dirty.

* * *

Jounouchi lay awkwardly in the bed, his body a lot calmer now, his hands neatly folded on his chest. He wanted to fall asleep, to have sweet unconsciousness wipe away his memory. But the more agitated he became the less likely it seemed, his heart speeding up in the effort of trying to make it calm down. The burning desire he had felt only fifteen minutes ago had abated, self-disgust and an irritating pulse of dissatisfaction taking its place.

The bathroom door opened and Seto emerged, rubbing at his hair with a towel. Jounouchi wondered involuntarily if he'd touched himself and thought about him. Annoyed with himself, he looked away as his cheeks flushed, radiating embarrassment, as Seto took off the bath robe he was wearing and began to dress in the same clothes he had worn last night.

Seto felt oddly content, the day having seemed to have gone by quickly, a haze of work and tedium overshadowed, eclipsed completely by the memory of Jounouchi lying back on the very bed he was now climbing into and moaning as he touched him. Seto smirked to himself as he realised Jounouchi was thinking the exact same thing, turning away stubbornly as Seto lay down next to him.

"You need to get over it," Seto said, adjusting the pillows next to Jounouchi and looking up at his confused expression. "Things are going to get a lot worse."

Jounouchi slid down next to him, turning reluctantly to face Seto. "I know. I'd just… rather pretend it didn't happen. At least for now."

"It'll be all the more difficult when you have to face reality," Seto murmured, closing his eyes. "But it's your choice. If you want to put it off for as long as you can then that's fine with me."

Across the space between them, Jounouchi watched Seto's half asleep face with interest. "You've been pretty decent to me about all of this. Why?"

He didn't open his eyes at first, then slowly did, not meeting Jounouchi's gaze. "Well, I know what it's like. Being treated like just a piece of flesh for people to fuck with, and having no one to turn to… I'm just trying to make things easier for you."

Jounouchi edged closer, his voice dropping instinctively. "But why?"

Seto sighed, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. "Because I don't want to be the person my father thinks I am. Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I'm going to-" He cut himself off and his eyes flew open again, the distant sound of footsteps approaching the closed door. "Shit," he muttered and rolled over, not looking at Jounouchi, and pretended to sleep.

The door slid open silently, Gozaburo walking in, the familiar ritual of unlocking and relocking happening again. He didn't seem to have noticed that Jounouchi wasn't asleep (or at least pretending to be) as he undressed for bed. Jounouchi watched in silence as the man got into the bed on Seto's side, not bothering with pleasantries and simply pushing his son towards Jounouchi's side of the bed so that he would have more room. Seto opened his eyes and moved closer to Jounouchi who, in turn, moved closer to the edge of the bed. The whole thing seemed a lot smaller when there were three people in it. Seto's legs were pressed against his own, their sides flush against one another. It was strange that this physical contact still disturbed him despite what had just happened.

"Seto," Gozaburo's now familiar voice murmured. "Kiss Katsuya goodnight."

Jounouchi felt his body tense, his muscles paralysing him and preventing him from moving as Seto, unhesitant, pressed his lips against Jounouchi's. It was one swift, smooth movement that seemed almost rehearsed in its fluidity. He felt Seto's tongue push between his lips momentarily before pulling away, the brief contact sending strange electric pulses through his mouth. Above him in the darkness, Seto's eyes avoided his before he rolled away back to the middle of the bed. "Goodnight, Jounouchi."

On the other side of the bed, Jounouchi listened dumbly as Gozaburo laughed quietly to himself. "And kiss me goodnight."

Jounouchi turned away, starting at the thin strips of blue light filtering in around the curtains, not watching as Seto performed the same ritual for his father, cold and professional as though he had been doing this his entire life. Which, really, he nearly had. He felt Seto relax back into the bed next to him, a sudden rush of warmth pressing against his side. The bed seemed remarkably small now that they were all in it, and he could feel Seto's face leaning against his back; his hand resting on Jounouchi's side and his legs pressed up so there was no space between their thighs. Jounouchi moved away slightly, trying to create some modicum of distance between them. But there was nowhere to move to and he only succeeded in making himself even more aware of the position of Seto's body.

He gave up trying to escape the contact and moved his head into a more comfortable position, Seto's hair lying against his neck. He was the last of the three to fall asleep.


	5. Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal

**Wow, I haven't updated this in a _long_ while. I've rewritten the first four chapters, mostly smoothing out stylistic issues, but there are a few minor plot changes as well. There's a link to my blog in my profile which gives a brief overview of the alterations (check the _We Are the Future _tag).**

**If you reviewed during the time this story was on hiatus and I didn't reply, I'm sorry! It's been so long I can't remember which I've replied to. I try to reply to all substantial reviews (it can be hard to reply to a two word review, but I still appreciate them), so please don't be discouraged.**

**Without further ado, chapter 5.**

* * *

The following day seemed to establish a routine that played out mostly uninterrupted for the next week. Jounouchi would always sleep late if he wasn't woken by the other two getting up and would usually wake to find himself alone in the apartment and with the door locked. Seto had stopped speaking to him. Indeed, he rarely even looked at him, but Jounouchi hardly ever heard him speak to Gozaburo either. The strange, taciturn air seemed to have set in overnight and for the following week all Jounouchi ever heard out of either of the two Kaibas were snatches of clipped conversations that were instantly silenced the moment that he walked in on them, and these incidents were rare. Gozaburo was hardly ever around. Jounouchi was only vaguely aware that he slept in the bed as him.

Jounouchi started spending a lot of time bathing, not so much to get clean but because there was absolutely nothing to do. He did eventually locate the remote for the hidden television (revealed rather majestically behind an engraved wooden panel that slid back to display a colossal screen), but the only channel that got reception was the news. He left it on constantly regardless just to get a bit of company, tinny voices endlessly repeating the same headlines. He would rise at ten o' clock, take a two hour bath, then wander around the tiny apartment with the television on for hours until, at about six, Seto would come back from wherever he disappeared off to and then Jounouchi would spend the rest of the evening trying to avoid him, which was exceedingly difficult as the apartment only had three cramped rooms.

The balcony remained locked (Jounouchi never brought up the topic of why all the doors had to be locked to Gozaburo) and, as he soon discovered, no other windows opened. He would spend hours pacing the meagre square feet of floor space and forcing stale air into his lungs, trying to prevent any impending panic attacks. After a week of no conversation or fresh air it started to get to him.

After a week or so of this silence, both Jounouchi and Seto happened to both go to prepare dinner at the same time –they never ate together– and found themselves at an awkward impasse.

Jounouchi was staring blankly into one of the cupboards, eyes drifting between the various packets of instant food with no desire to consume any of them. Soup, noodles, microwave lasagne... He couldn't think of any reason why this decision at all mattered, and the weight of this insignificance led to him standing motionless before the cupboard for nearly fifteen minutes. The apartment door opened and closed, the footsteps of whoever had opened it fading into the distance with the door locking behind Seto as he entered. Assuming Jounouchi was in the bathroom, Seto headed for the kitchenette, and there they came to a deadlock.

"Hn," was all Seto said, and Jounouchi nodded at him in acknowledgement, his eyes sluggishly returning to the cupboard.

"I'm having dinner," he said, his voice completely emotionless.

"That's what I was going to do," said Seto, studying the boy's blank face. Jounouchi looked horribly depressed.

"Oh. I'll get out of your way then."

Jounouchi closed the cupboard and turned to walk out of the kitchenette, losing whatever insignificant interest he had once had in the meal.

Seized by a flash of pity, Seto said, "Go sit down. I'll cook something for you."

Jounouchi gave him a confused look, this being the longest exchange of words the two had shared since the incident last week. A rush of shame flooded Jounouchi as he recalled himself bent back on the bed, disgusted and aroused, unable and partially unwilling to do anything to stop the situation as Seto sat between his legs. He tried to push the memory out of his mind.

"You don't have to," he mumbled, too ashamed to meet the other's eyes.

"It's fine. If I'm cooking for myself then I might as well make enough for you; it's not as though it's any extra trouble."

Unsure of how he could reject this offer without ruining their reluctant armistice, Jounouchi consented, and went to sit down at the small dining table with its two chairs (no one had thought to add a third for Jounouchi, that's how low he registered on the elder Kaiba's radar), and waited.

The meal was some pasta dish, and Jounouchi watched in silence as Seto set the dry pasta on the stove and made the sauce from scratch while it boiled. Seto didn't seem to mind being watched. He barely looked up as he prepared the meal, only finally looking at Jounouchi when he finally set the two plates down on the table.

"Thanks," said Jounouchi and the two commenced eating in what Jounouchi assumed would be their usual silence. The meal was good, however, and he felt obligated to thank him properly. "This is pretty good," he began to say, but Seto abruptly cut him off.

"I know it's good; you don't have to say." His voice was sharp but this hostility didn't seem directed towards Jounouchi. He stared at the meal, pushing it around with his chopsticks, his tone and his furrowed brow making Jounouchi feel as though Seto was talking more to himself than Jounouchi. "I cook for my father all the time. Pretty much any meal when we don't eat out, actually, and we don't go out much any more. He's become more secluded over the years, more withdrawn. He used to have a personal chef, but he fired him years ago. He prefers it when I cook for him; when I serve him." He looked up at Jounouchi sharply, as though he had forgotten he was there, and rather than looking away he held Jounouchi's stare with his own steely glare. "Does that disturb you?"

Jounouchi didn't look away from the intense gaze and frowned, wondering at how easily Seto would switch between these sudden changes of tone. He was so good at pretending to be someone else that it was difficult to tell which Seto was sincere, and which was trying to screw with him.

"It doesn't freak me out so much now," said Jounouchi slowly, uncharacteristically abandoning his meal as he thought through his words. "Although I don't understand why you say these things."

"What things?" Seto's voice was hostile, but challengingly so, as if offering Jounouchi an opportunity.

"Well, you say things like that whenever it seems like we might actually start a conversation. Like if I'm surprised that you sleep with your dad, or if I'm shocked that your dad's made you choose between manipulating me or killing me." He swallowed, but felt confident. "It's like you're trying to get me to judge you for things that I know aren't your fault."

Seto inhaled sharply but didn't reply, eyes even colder than before, staring unblinking at Jounouchi, who decided to take that as a cue to continue.

"Come on, you think I really blame you for this? Man, it's all so fucked up, but I've been here a week now and it's pretty clear that you don't want to be here. You think I'd believe the things your dad says about you?"

"What does he say about me?" said Seto, voice extremely tense, hissing through his teeth. Jounouchi just shrugged.

"You've heard most of it. He calls you used, a slut, he told me that you enjoyed being..." He faltered. "Being raped. And of course I don't believe him, but I think you do, and you want confirmation."

"I don't believe a _word_ that man says, you stupid child," spat Seto, eyes flashing with a fury that reminded Jounouchi horribly of Gozaburo. He persevered.

"You really don't? Because sometimes you seem almost willing for me to confirm what he says about you."

"You're wrong."

Jounouchi shrugged. "Hey, I'm no psychiatrist. I just think you should consider if I'm actually likely to agree with your dad's opinions before asking me, because you should know that I never would." He gave a weak half-smile. "I am on your side."

For the briefest instant, Seto's expression slackened and he seemed to be looking at Jounouchi from behind a clear pane of glass, his face relieved and scared and grateful all at once, but then it was gone as soon as it had come and he was glaring again.

"Eat your dinner, mutt."

* * *

"I hate chess."

"You don't understand chess. You can't hate something that you don't understand."

Jounouchi rolled his eyes in reply and groaned, stretching his body out and feeling the bones in his spine crack satisfactorily. Seto sat opposite, cross-legged, eyes fixed on the chessboard between them and flickering rapidly between the pieces. Jounouchi had no idea how something so dull could seem so rapturous to him, or how Seto, who assured him that he was far the superior player, could spend so long making decisions about his moves when it took Jounouchi all of ten seconds to make his own.

Finally, Seto moved his remaining knight and took an inconsequential pawn. "Your move."

Jounouchi sighed in frustration and pushed himself up, looking reluctantly at the board. "Couldn't we play Duel Monsters, or at least a less incredibly boring game like Monopoly or something?"

"Do you think my father would let me keep a Duel Monsters deck? And why would I want to play something as insipid as Monopoly?"

Jounouchi groaned. As much as he hated chess, he knew that the only reason Seto had suggested it was to take his mind off things. He was trying impressively hard for Jounouchi's sake to pretend that last week's events, when Jounouchi had lain back on this bed with Seto sat between his legs, delicately orchestrating irresistible, shameful pleasure within himself, had never happened. Although he would never admit it, the gesture was appreciated.

It wasn't just last week's incident which perturbed Jounouchi; there were regular occurrences which constantly served to remind him that things were somewhat... _off_. Sometimes it was easy to pretend that nothing was amiss, that he had just had his room upgraded and classes had been cancelled. He would waste away hours with his extravagant baths, half-drowning himself in bubble bath, or perhaps making strange and foul-tasting mixers out of the vast selection of alcohol. In these times, life bordered on pleasant, and he could forget about what went on here.

But then he would wake in the middle of the night to the door opening, and Seto would quietly enter, trying not to disturb Jounouchi, and in the dim blue light filtering through the curtains he would see the fresh bruises decorating his bare arms and face. It wasn't too difficult, however, to simply roll over and go back to sleep, and pretend that everything was normal. Seto had lived this life for years and seemed to be doing fine; what would concern and effort expended on Jounouchi's part do to alleviate his situation?

These were the words he repeated to himself, determinedly ignorant of everything that went on when he had his back turned. Sometimes it made it easier, but when Seto had slipped and got hostile with him at lunch Jounouchi could see so clearly how much the other boy was suffering, admirably though he tried to hide it. At times like that, he was disgusted with himself for pretending everything was normal.

Jounouchi slid a rook along the board, placing it protectively before his queen, and caught a brief smirk touch Seto's mouth and quickly be covered up with his usually expression of stony indifference.

"What?" he said. "Think that's a stupid move?"

The smirk reappeared and Seto shook his head. "No, of course not. A very sensible move."

"You know, for all you boast about being good at chess, it sure does take you a long time to do anything."

Seto met his eyes, and Jounouchi's gaze flickered to a cut above the other's right eyebrow. Seto had combed his hair expertly over the wound, but at this proximity it was impossible for it to go unnoticed. Jounouchi didn't comment on it, but he was sure Seto knew that he had noticed it. Once again, he brushed it off, just as he did with every other horrible thing that happened. "I could beat you in three moves," he said arrogantly. "But it's more fun toying with you."

Jounouchi scoffed. "You're so full of it."

Seto's smirk widened, and Jounouchi detected a hint of genuine pleasure behind it. Without looking at the board Seto moved his queen out into the open, which Jounouchi promptly took with his own, and before he had barely let go of the piece Seto had brazenly moved his bishop out to the side. Jounouchi hesitated, moved his rook to take it, and once again his fingers had barely left the piece before Seto had made his own move, sliding his other bishop across the board to take Jounouchi's queen.

"Checkmate," he said, sitting straighter and stretching.

Jounouchi stared at the board, and indeed his king was wide open and ready for the taking. He swore in loud annoyance at the defeat but was unable not to feel impressed by the swiftness of it.

"You're terrible at chess," said Seto, yawning. "A child could beat you."

"Chess is for geeks who don't have lives," Jounouchi retorted, realising what an inadequate comeback it was before he had finished saying it. "Anyway, how did you get so good?"

A frown creased Seto's brow as he began to put the pieces back in their original positions, but he didn't meet Jounouchi's eyes. "At the orphanage. I used to play with Mokuba but now I mostly play against my father. He used to be one of the world's top players, but he doesn't enter tournaments any more."

"And you lose against him?" said Jounouchi, still annoyed by his crushing defeat and hoping to bring Seto down a notch.

"He's won against me about a dozen times more than the reverse, but at least half of those victories were me letting him win. He gets... 'cranky,' when he loses."

Seto knew that Jounouchi looked towards the scar above his eyebrow when he said this, but didn't acknowledge it.

Jounouchi knocked over his king, disturbing the pieces Seto had just put replaced on the board. "I don't feel like playing any more."

"Are you bored with losing so abominably?" Seto smirked, putting the pieces one by one back into the box.

Jounouchi gave a small shrug. "I'm sorry I brought your dad up."

For a moment Seto's eyes flashed and his hand froze, staring at Jounouchi with an unreadable intensity. Then it was gone and soon as it had come and he was placing the pieces back as though nothing had happened. "Don't be."

"Did he hurt you badly last night?" Seto didn't answer. "I saw your bruises..."

"Let's not talk about this," Seto said finally, putting the lid back on the wooden box and returning it to the shelf on which it has originally rested.

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing." He stood, looking at the clock. "I'm going to read. My father will be back soon any way."

"You expect me to believe it doesn't bother you," Jounouchi called after Seto as he went into the lounge to fetch a book. "The things he does to you?"

No answer came.

* * *

It was late evening, the air hotter than usual, thick and stifling. Jounouchi was still sat in his corner, slumped against a wall and staring into space as Seto read a book on the other side of the room, apparently too absorbed to even join Jounouchi's half-hearted attempts to make conversation. When his legs started to cramp up he stood and took the few short steps into the bathroom where he shut the door and collapsed against the floor again, the cool tiles providing some meagre relief. There was no lock on the door but the lack of privacy was nothing new.

He ran a bath: cold, refreshing water splashing down into the capacious tub and providing a kind of relaxing white noise. Jounouchi lay there for an hour or so, deliberately and slowly murdering time, then got out and dried himself before redressing. He wasn't prepared for what would happen when he went back into the bedroom.

Jounouchi opened the door and took a step forward then suddenly froze. Staring at the bed, he stood immobile on the threshold, clutching the doorknob with one hand. His first feeling was as though he had committed an amusingly overblown faux pas by walking in on such a situation, and the second was just sickeningly familiar fear.

Seto lay on the bed, restrained by his father who lay above his son, holding Seto's wrists clenched together in one fist. Goazburo looked up at Jounouchi with a smile, but his eyes were hollow.

"Katsuya," he said. "I didn't realise you were here."

Jounouchi's eyes fell to the floor as if his gaze had been weighted with lead. "Where else would I be?" His voice was faint, saying the first words that came into his head, trying not to think about the position of the older man and his son.

Before him on the bed, Gozaburo climbed off Seto as though mildly embarrassed by having been caught in such a situation. Seto remained on the bed, his body limp, but his open eyes indicated that he was awake. There was something eerie about how he lay there so passively, looking so empty or brain-dead. His shirt was pulled roughly open, the finely pressed collar wrestled all out of shape and his expensive cotton trousers undone and creased. He didn't even move as his father got off him; a completely unresponsive figure.

"We were just having some fun," Gozaburo said jovially as though this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having. "Seems we never get any time alone. Right, Seto?"

His son didn't answer or even move, still staring blankly at the wall. His father didn't seem to notice and addressed Jounouchi.

"You're always _here_, aren't you? Taking up space." The affected smile slipped completely from his face. "Unwanted."

Jounouchi found his voice, trying to swallow his fear. "Then why don't you let me go? If you don't want me here, I'll go. I just..." He hesitated as he watched Seto sit up, his back to Jounouchi, and quietly button up his clothes. "I just want to go home."

"Yes, well, it's not as simple as that," Gozaburo's voice sounded like ice, but not like Seto's, so much rougher despite how cold it ran. "I just want you to be gone. And yet… Here you are."

For the first time, Jounouchi felt as though Gozaburo wasn't the ultimate authority in this room. He glanced at Seto as though the boy was guilty of something.

"But don't worry," the man continued. His voice came out in a low, threatening timbre. "It won't last forever. In the meantime, why don't you join us?"

"What?" Jounouchi's voice cracked slightly. "Join you?"

"Yeah. I think he'd like that," Jounouchi assumed 'he' referred to Seto. "You know, spice things up for a change. Know what I mean?" He didn't wait for a reply. "The fact is, Katsuya, that I'm not going to put up with this molly coddling much longer."

Jounouchi remained silent, having no idea what the man was talking about.

"If you don't start pulling your weight around here then I'm going to get rid of you, regardless of what _he_ wants." Gozaburo stood up, dropping a hand on Seto's shoulder. "You wouldn't be the first." He suddenly made for where Jounouchi was standing and, for one moment, Jounouchi thought that he was going to be attacked. But instead the man pushed past him, forcing him to relinquish his grip on the door, and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door smartly behind him.

Jounouchi exhaled slowly and sat down on the bed, simply because there was nowhere else to sit. Seto exhaled slowly, inclining his head slowly in Jounouchi's direction, his eyes still fixed on the wall. "He means it, you know."

"Means what? I don't even know what he's talking about."

Beside him, Seto spoke very softly as if he was completely exhausted.

"He means that if you and I don't have sex soon he's going to kill you," There was almost a light, conversational lilt to his voice, as if this information was of a kind that he regularly disclosed. "He's been getting very frustrated with you."

"Oh," was all Jounouchi could manage. He knew, of course, that this was an unavoidable eventuality, but it seemed much more real to hear it in such plain words. He drew his legs up onto the bed; the effort of keeping them on the ground seeming more than he could bear. He stiffened slightly as he suddenly felt Seto pat his arm in a ludicrously offhand manner.

"Cheer up. It could be worse."

"Worse?" Jounouchi finally met the other's eyes. He was startled to see Seto looking back at him, his eyes dull and empty. "How could it be worse? I don't even understand how you manage to cope with what he does to you."

"Cope? You call this coping?" Seto glanced down at his body, examining it, and then back at Jounouchi. He smiled horribly, looking as though someone had casually sliced his face open. "I stopped 'coping' a long time ago." He slid closer on the bed but Jounouchi didn't move away, transfixed by that ghastly expression. He felt Seto's lips against his ear, very soft, expertly gentle. "It's much easier not to cope. Just…" He breathed out slowly, the hot air coasting over Jounouchi's skin. "Let yourself go." The lips continued brushing against his skin even when the words had stopped, moving away from his ear and resting on his neck. Jounouchi remained stiff and frozen, his senses blocking out everything but the feeling of Seto's lips on his neck and, suddenly, his hand on his knee. He felt Seto's lips close on his skin, the boy's tongue hot against the flesh and felt the hand, very slowly but without hesitation, slide up his leg.

He yanked himself away. "No," Falling slightly off the bed, Jounouchi managed to right himself, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily. "No. I don't want that. I know what you're trying to do but I can't, I just can't."

"Must you insist on making this more difficult for yourself?" It was that same shell of a voice as before, wisps of speech forcing themselves reluctantly past Seto's lips. "I'm just trying to do you a favour. The sooner you get it over with the easier it will be." He shrugged and then stretched his arms as though he was finally beginning to wake from his stupor. "I thought I could catch you off guard."

Jounouchi half laughed and half choked in disbelief. "Catch me off guard?"

"Yes," He smiled, a more human smile this time with genuine humour behind it. "It doesn't mean anything."

"How can you talk like that? Be so flippant about it? Don't you care?"

"No," Seto looked honestly surprised, the change in expression a welcome respite. "I don't care at all." Then his face darkened, and a very cold smile spread over his lips. Slowly, deliberately, he slid his legs apart and placed his hand on the top of his thigh. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

"No," said Jounouchi harshly. "Stop it. You're not going to get me to act like your father. It won't work, so don't embarrass yourself trying."

Seto's cruel, alluring expression soured and he slid his legs back together. "Am I not good enough for you? Do you have standards now? Are you going to try and pretend you're respectable now that you think your precious mother might take you back?"

Jounouchi ground his teeth and clenched his fists but restrained himself. He thought he was starting to see the patterns to Seto's behaviour, beginning to be able to navigate them and steer their dynamics somewhere less manipulative. Seto smirked as he saw Jounouchi loosen his clenched fists.

"What, mutt? Is your cowardice getting in the way again? Are you afraid you can't take me, or that you might enjoy getting on top of me, holding me down?"

Jounouchi sighed and shut his eyes, lying back on the bed. "I'm not going to fight you, Kaiba."

"Why?"

"Because..." He sighed exasperatedly and turned to face the other boy with a determined expression. "Because if you beat me then you get to feel superior, which you like. But if you lose you feel like you're weak, like you've been put in your place and you deserve to be treated the way you are. And that makes it easier for you, if feel like don't have to resist _him_. It's win-win for you, isn't it?" He closed his eyes again and took a shuddering breath. "Or at least you think it is. I'm not going to fight you, for your sake."

"For _my sake_? You should be worrying about your own safety, Jounouchi."

"I'm not the one," said Jounouchi delicately, opening his eyes to meet Seto's. "Whose foster father just tried to rape him."

He thought the other boy might look away, call him an idiot or change the subject, but he held his gaze. "That's nothing new. In fact, he's been somewhat less keen lately, since you've been here."

"Good." The suddenness and certainty of Jounouchi's reply caused Seto to cock an eyebrow. "It makes me sick to think about him doing that to you."

"You're too sensitive, bonkotsu," Seto replied, still not glancing away, his tone soft and casual.

Jounouchi sighed, a little exasperated. He couldn't tell if Seto was being evasive or if he genuinely didn't care that much about his treatment. Jounouchi settled on the former; the latter was too frightening to contemplate.

"Hey Kaiba, since we're on the subject, can you explain why the hell your dad is keeping me here?"

"Entertainment," Seto replied uncooperatively, finally looking away fro Jounouchi's eyes.

"I mean, he seems to really hate having me here. So why doesn't he just throw me out? Come to think of it, why did he even bring me in the first place? He doesn't seem the type to like..." Jounouchi was going to say 'sharing', but he couldn't bring himself to. It made Seto sound like a children's plaything. He caught his meaning regardless and shrugged, staring off at nothing.

"You're not wrong," he said, his voice low. "He's keeping you here as a favour to me."

Jounouchi made a sound of disbelief and Seto shook his head.

"No, I mean, now the novelty of having you here has worn off he wants to kill you and have done with the situation. I asked him not to, as a favour, and he's too angry that I still care whether you live or die to go through with it. But he doesn't want to admit defeat by letting you go, either." Seto laughed quietly to himself. "He's so childish."

"I still don't understand why he wanted me here in the first place," Jounouchi said, shifting slightly closer to Seto. "I just get in his way."

"When I asked him to stop Yamamoto from interfering with you," Seto began very heavily, still staring into the distance. "He misinterpreted my rather understandable desire to protect an innocent person from a paedophile as a sexual possessiveness on my part. He doesn't understand caring about someone's well-being without an ulterior motive." He gave a hollow laugh. "Or maybe he doesn't think I'm capable of platonic feelings. He brought you here thinking you would either reject me, or be completely disgusted with how I live, which would show me for the..." He broke off, then blinked and continued. "For the useless slut he says I am." He sighed and looked at Jounouchi, his face once against a blank mask. "He didn't count on you being a somewhat decent human being."

Jounouchi smiled weakly. "I guess you didn't think that about me either."

"I didn't think about you much before this," Seto replied. "Besides, I don't-"

He cut off abruptly as the bathroom door opened and Gozaburo returned, pausing to look between his son and Jounouchi, sitting together on the bed as they were. He gave a wide smile that didn't come close to touching his eyes. "Does this mean that matters are progressing between you two?"

Seto looked up his father, all smiles and warm, sparkling eyes. The expression was so convincing it took Jounouchi aback. "Yes, sir. Perhaps if you could leave us alone for a few hours we could-"

Gozaburo landed a heavy backhand on his son's face, Seto struck back against the bed and blinking for a moment in shock, then quickly recovering his blank expression. "Don't try to bullshit me, Seto. Don't ever try to lie to me."

Seto pulled himself back into a sitting position and inclined his head in his father's direction, as though courteously admitting defeat. "I'm sorry, father. Jounouchi's just shy."

He grimaced at Jounouchi, who couldn't tell which of them Seto was most angry at.

"Don't you want to have sex with my son?" Gozaburo said in a calm, measured voice, addressing Jounouchi with cold eyes. "You're taking your sweet time to make a decision. Either you want him, or you don't. Either he attracts you, or repulses you. So which is it?"

Jounouchi dropped his eyes, grinding his teeth and hating the man more than ever. "The first one."

"So you do want to fuck him?" Jounouchi nodded dumbly and jumped as Gozaburo bent down and shouted into his face: "_Say it!_"

"Y-yes…" Jounouchi closed his eyes, trying to force the words out before he had to think about them. "Yes, I do want to sleep with him…"

Gozaburo straightened. "Whatever." He sighed, sounding just as exhausted as his son had done earlier. "I'm tired of these games. I'm sick of putting up with your shit. We're not delaying this any longer." He ran a hand through his hair. "We're doing this now."

Jounouchi gave Seto a look of terror, which melted into silent pleading as Seto glanced at him and then immediately away, his face perfectly blank. He begged Seto silently to save him from this somehow, disregarding the part of him that was condemning him for being so selfish. His heart sank when all Seto could offer was a small shrug.

"Whatever you want, father."

Seto looked away, not meeting Jounouchi's horrified expression or his father's lewd gaze. Gozaburo smiled broadly. "Alright, get on with it."

There was a long moment of inaction in which neither boy moved, and then Seto rose slowly onto all fours and very gradually crawled towards him, taking as much time as he could to close the short distance. Jounouchi sat there, staring at nothing, his skin seeming to vibrate with fear and disgust. Seto sat gently next to him, the two of them facing the wall and therefore unable to see the third party in the room who had taken a seat in his usual chair.

It seemed to go in slow-motion for Jounouchi, every action deliberate and planned in advance, as if he had been cast in the lead role of a play that everybody else had already rehearsed countless times. He froze completely as, for the second time that evening, he felt Seto's lips on his neck. He kissed him in what seemed an almost apologetic fashion, and then kissed him again with less tentativeness and more purpose. Jounouchi shut his eyes as the next kiss was placed on his mouth, which was where Seto's lips remained, gingerly trying to get Jounouchi to relax as his tongue began to brush against the other boy's mouth, unresisting and passive to the movements.

It occurred to Jounouchi, vaguely and abstractly, as though the thought had simply drifted into his head from nowhere, that things could have been worse. With his eyes shut and the room and the people in it blocked out of his mind he could pretend that he was somewhere else, anywhere else, laying on a bed at a party in the summer vacation with a pretty girl that he had somehow managed to score with. The memory settled comfortably between him and reality, and he tried to recall what she had smelt like as he laid his head back on the pillow.

His eyes opened again, fear jolting through him once again as a hand was placed on his knee and the dream-girl faded away to be replaced with Seto who was lifting his legs up onto the bed. Jounouchi allowed himself to be repositioned, eyes fixed on Seto's hands and not determinedly looking at the man observing them. Once he was lying fully on the bed he found that Seto was now positioned above him, his legs on either side of Jounouchi's hips. He didn't do anything, however, and simply returned to the kissing. Jounouchi shut his eyes again tightly as Seto lay above him, one hand starting to undo Jounouchi's shirt buttons. He felt them open one by one as Seto moved his hand down his chest and, when they were all undone, he opened his eyes again to see with surprise that Seto had already removed his own shirt. He hadn't noticed at all.

He sat up to allow Seto to slip his shirt around his shoulders, numb and obliging, shivering slightly in the cold air. As their chests were pressed together Seto leant to his ear and whispered urgently. "Be more assertive. Act like you want it."

Jounouchi shut his eyes once again and mustered his willpower, then placed his hands around Seto's waist. He felt the boy flex between his hands, overcompensating for Jounouchi's pathetic attempt, so Jounouchi pulled the body closer to him and moved his head with more enthusiastic accommodation, letting Seto's kisses seem more affecting than they actually were.

His eyes jerked open as he felt a second pair of hands over his own, and found himself looking into Gozaburo's eyes over Seto's shoulder. The man's smile was strange, beyond Jounouchi's powers of interpretation. He simply sat there, holding Jounouchi's hands wrapped around his son's waist and smiling, until Seto, who had apparently been more aware of his father's presence than Jounouchi, leaned back against the man's chest. His naked skin was very pale, the elegant arches of his ribcage standing out under the skin as he stretched backwards, allowing his father to undo his black cotton pants and underwear.

Jounouchi noticed that Gozaburo wasn't paying much attention to him anymore, and so fell back against the bed and closed his eyes to block out the ensuing actions. He saw nothing but the black of his eyelids. Listening, he heard Seto's indecipherable shallow breathing and sharp inhalations, the rustle of clothing, and then felt Seto's legs come to rest again on either side of his own, whose soft skin he could feel even through his clothing. He kept his eyes shut tightly, however, against the boy's naked form, and tried not to react as he felt his own pants being unbuttoned, unzipped, but not removed.

A delicate hand came to rest between his legs, very gently stroking him and trying to coax Jounouchi into arousal. His eyes shut firmly, Jounouchi tried very hard to think about something, anything else that would produce the desired effect so he could get this over with as quickly as possible. It took some time, but eventually he was erect and Seto's hand fell away.

The incident itself was brief, uncomfortable, but painless, and Jounouchi could afterwards recall little more than a hot pulsing tightness around him for some long minutes. He didn't open his eyes to the sight of what he had once called his rival sitting naked astride him, guided by his father's tight grip on his hips, and didn't know what happened afterwards, after Seto had climbed off him and the ensuing scene between him and his father. Jounouchi lay silent and shaking in the bed, having been unable to reach orgasm but for now forgotten as he felt the bed contract beneath him as Gozaburo finished his game alone with his son.

He wanted very much to get up and leave as he felt the bed rise and fall beneath him, making him seasick, and hearing the older man's panting breath and, beneath that, Seto's fainter shallow breaths, punctuated by the occasional, nigh indiscernible sound of pain. Or pleasure, he couldn't say for sure. Jounouchi pressed his hands over his ears and lay as still as he could, trying to block out all he could of the scene happening only a few inches away from him. At one point, someone's arm brushed his and he flinched away, not knowing to whom it belonged.

Despite how hard he had his hands clamped over his ears, he couldn't help but hear the groan of release from the elder Kaiba, and, shuddering, Jounouchi felt a weight leave the bed. He couldn't hear the man's footsteps to the bathroom, but his whole body jerked when the man bent down to ruffle his hair on the way, laughing and saying something Jounouchi couldn't and didn't want to make out.

When he was sure Gozaburo was shut in the bathroom Jounouchi forced himself to open his eyes and turn around, his body convulsing with nausea and fear at the sight of his old rival lying there, naked, eyes very blank and staring at the ceiling. His skin was still revoltingly pale, but painted with a distinct pink blush. He tried to avoid looking below his hips, but it seemed a rather quaint notion considering that a few minutes earlier he had been inside the boy.

"Kaiba..." he said gently, with no idea how he was going to finish the sentence.

Seto's eyelids twitched, and then it was as though he was blinking away the memory of what just happened. He turned away and pulled one of the many sheets and blankets over his naked form, giving Jounouchi the briefest glimpse of a deeply scarred back.

"Kaiba, are you okay?"

"Shut up," came the low, hissed reply.

Jounouchi reached out a hand tentatively to the boy's back, then retracted it. "It's not your fault, Kaiba, I-"

"_Shut up_, you stupid, stupid boy," came Kaiba's harsh, cracked voice. "You know nothing. _Nothing_." His back was trembling. He curled a hand around the back of his neck and wound his fingers around his shaking skin, rubbing it in a way that could have been an attempt to comfort himself or just a habit.

Jounouchi wanted to say something, to do anything to make this situation better, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't upset Kaiba more. He pulled his own clothing back on, not at all aroused any more and unwilling to sleep in pajamas, and lay in silence staring at the ceiling.

The bathroom door opened and Gozaburo returned, dressed in a loose robe. Jounouchi followed the man with his eyes, fighting down the brutal instinct to lunge at the man and strangle him. He probably couldn't take him any way, but just to hurt him a little bit would have been worth it.

He didn't stop staring even as the elder Kaiba moved to the other side of the bed and got in, pushing aside his son to make room. Seto remained limp, the only sign he was awake that he curled slightly more into himself. Jounouchi kept his eyes fixed on the older man, who suddenly met his gaze and, smiling, reached over to his son and drew him close, pulling him on top of his chest and wrapping his arms around him. Seto made no effort to get away and lay perfectly still within his father's grasp.

"Did you not enjoy yourself, Katsuya?" Gozaburo asked, one hand going to his son's hair and beginning to stroke it, smiling as Jounouchi watched him with revulsion. "I'm sorry if he disgusted you. He's quite skilled, once you get past the smell," he bent and kissed his son's forehead. "The smell of all the people who've had him before you."

Jounouchi didn't answer; there was nothing he could say.

Closing his eyes and turning away from the pair, Jounouchi carefully snaked his hand under the sheets and found Seto's, lying limp on the mattress. He took it within his own and squeezed it, trying to show support for the boy in some way that wouldn't result in either of them facing retaliation from Gozaburo. Seto did not squeeze back, but he didn't pull away either. Jounouchi rubbed the hand within his own with his thumb, wondering if this was helping or if it just made it worse.

After a few minutes Seto pulled his hand away, but not before he had briefly returned Jounouchi's tight sqeeze.

Jounouchi clenched his teeth and thought hard, wishing Seto could read his thoughts. _I promise I won't abandon you, even if you want me to._

Once Gozaburo had fallen asleep, Seto gingerly climbed off his father and moved to the middle of the bed. Jounouchi felt him press up next to him, more a result of how small the bed was when there were three of them in it than any sign of willing intimacy. Jounouchi turned to face the boy who was staring up at the canopy, not trying to sleep. He didn't glance away as Jounouchi leaned over and pressed his lips to the boy's ear, trying not to wake his father.

"Let me help you, Kaiba. Please. Together we have to be able to do something."

To Jounouchi's annoyance and reluctant relief, Seto smirked contemptuously. "I suppose now your life is not in immediate danger you think you have time for altruism, hm?"

"I just want to help."

"You're a selfless idiot," whispered Seto, but the insult didn't have the cruel vehemence of his earlier slights. Jounouchi grinned, for a moment able to forget the situation they were in.

"And you're an arrogant jerk, Kaiba," he said, then his smile faded slightly. He reached for Seto's hand again and didn't let go, despite Seto's glare. "But I want to help you."

Seto pulled his hand away once more and didn't reply, but he looked calmer than before and his expression of irritation was comforting in its familiarity.

Jounouchi drew his hands about himself and closed his eyes. It seemed pointless for Seto to pull his hand away since they were so closely pressed together, but Jounouchi didn't comment. He shifted about in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, which was more difficult than usual since Seto seemed more unwilling for their bodies to touch than he was usually. Eventually he felt the other boy shift in the bed beside him and lay a hand on his waist, like he usually did, allowing Jounouchi to sleep at a slightly more comfortable angle on his side now Seto was curled around to accommodate the other boy's body.

_I just lost my virginity to Kaiba Seto_, Jounouchi suddenly thought. Despite the sickness creeping through him at the memory he nearly laughed aloud, feeling bitter and empty as he bit back the urge. He breathed out very slowly and closed his eyes, feeling Seto's arm slide more comfortably around his waist.

Beside him, Seto staried at the back of the blond's head, feeling rather ill but more comforted than he had thought he would be by the warm body pressed against him. It helped him ignore the body on his other side, that of his father, and he leaned closer into Jounouchi's form to get away from the man sleeping beside him. The boy smelt of bubble bath and sweat, not entirely unpleasant, and the feeling of the soft hair against his face was similarly agreeable.

_Silly bonkotsu,_ he thought, thinking of Jounouchi's repeated attempts to hold his hand. Even if he wouldn't admit it to himself he did appreciate it, both the comforting sensation and the reminder that he wasn't alone any more, that he had someone trying to help him.

They slept together like that, curling tighter together in the night, neither of them waking when Gozaburo disturbed the bed by sitting up in the small hours of the morning. He was at first confused at the absence of the soft body usually at his side, only to see his son wound up tightly on the other side of the bed with the blond. He watched them in silence for some time, then rose in disgust and dressed, letting himself out of the apartment.

Even with the bed now half empty, Seto and Jounouchi remained tightly holding one another.

* * *

**I have the next chapter (in fact the entire fic) already planned out so I shouldn't take too long to update. For the first time ever I don't have any assignment deadlines until after Christmas so I've got some free time to do some writing.**


	6. Further Down the Spiral

**I didn't intend this chapter to be so long. It got away from me a little bit.**

* * *

Seto woke up cold, wrapped tightly within his own arms beneath a heavy pile of sheets but still shivering. When he first opened his eyes he stared for a long time at the crimson folds of silk covering his head, unable to remember what had happened the previous night.

Then it hit him: a realisation flooded with cold disgust, and he shut his eyes again. He didn't try to fight the memories that now seeped into him, instead letting them slowly engulf him with awful little details; Jounouchi's strong naked stomach tensed beneath him as, Jounouchi's jaw trembling from the force of clenching his eyes shut, the two pairs of hands gripping his hips, guiding the boy inside him after his father was done stretching him with slippery fingers...

He sat up violently, dragging the sheets from his face and breathing the icy morning air in shallow, angry gasps. He was startled to see Jounouchi already awake, sitting beside him, his knees drawn up to his chest and staring into the distance. Gozaburo was nowhere to be seen.

"Jounouchi?" Seto asked, the blank expression on the other's face making him wary. It was a long way from the desperate fear that had filled it last night. To his surprise, when Jounouchi spoke his voice was hard. The syllables were cold and confident; monotone, but strong.

"Kaiba..." He didn't meet Seto's eyes, staring ahead as he was with his chin resting on his arms drawn about his knees. "I've let you down. I'm better than this. I know you don't think much of me but I am. I'm stronger than I've let you think. It's so much easier to stop fighting when someone's trying to protect you, at least in the moment, but afterwards..." His mouth set in a hard line and then twitched in disgust. "I am so ashamed of myself, to have let you try and keep me safe at your own expense. But I refuse to do nothing while you're destroying yourself for my benefit. I refuse to hold your hand and tell you everything's going to be okay after I've just lain there, useless, with my eyes shut..." His voice broke ever so slightly and he swallowed, his already tense jaw quivering as he clenched it even tighter. His voice dropped lower. "I will _kill_ that man. If I have to wrap my fingers around his throat myself and choke him to death then so be it." The words crackled wiith violence, his whole body trembling, hands bound in tight, white-knuckled fists. He finally looked at Seto, whose face was carefully blank. "I'll kill him. I promise you, Seto, I will fucking kill him."

Seto said nothing. He studied the boy carefully, that fury in his eyes, and felt a small shiver pass through him. As he held his gaze it no longer seemed to matter how ridiculous or hopeless the claim might be. He couldn't help but believe everything that Jounouchi said.

He reached for Jounouchi's hand, very briefly ghosting his fingers over the fist and feeling it relax beneath his touch. "I believe you're strong, Jounouchi-"

"No you don't," Jounouchi interrupted harshly. "You've always made it perfectly clear how weak and pathetic you think I am. And that's why you've been protecting me, right?"

"It's more complicated than that," Seto said softly, the passion of Jounouchi's speech fading and leaving a dismal reality in its place. "But I don't doubt your strength." He smirked despite himself. "I doubt your intelligence fairly often. But I believe that you could and would kill him." He took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment, then shifted closer to Jounouchi and reluctantly continued. "But you have to understand, killing him won't make it go away. It'll never go away, the feelings, the memories... His death can't stop that. You're upset and getting carried away and you need to understand that-"

Again Jounouchi interrupted. "You're right, Kaiba, I'm impulsive and I never look before I leap, whatever, but you can shut the hell up if you think I'm doing this for _my _benefit." His eyes were dark, staring up through his lashes so the pupils were underlined by the whites. "What happened last night was one of the worst experiences of my life, alright? But I want to do this because right now every muscle in my body is burning to throttle that piece of shit to death, to beat him bloody until he stops moving, so that he never lays a finger on you again. Right now I don't care about my memories of last night, I just want to fucking murder him."

Seto inhaled deeply, assessing the other boy. "And if he makes us do it again before you have a chance to kill him?"

"_So? _I'll deal. And so will you because I know you're strong too, probably more than me. And once he's in the ground it will never happen again."

"It will." Seto held his gaze for a moment longer. "Every night." His eyes flicked away and he muttered as though he didn't intend Jounouchi to hear. "When my eyes close..."

Seto started as Jounouchi suddenly lunged at him, thinking the boy had lost it, but he felt instead strong arms tightly enfold him, pulling him into an embrace that now, after a night of sweat and sleep, smelt less like bubble bath and more like Jounouchi again.

He couldn't stop himself smirking. "Get off me, bonkotsu." He pushed him away and Jounouchi fell back, the hard look still not gone from his eyes. "You're like a clumsy dog."

"Sure, Kaiba," said Jounouchi and Seto had the unsettling sense he was being humoured. "Look, I'm sorry to ask but I have to know... You might be a skinny little freak but I know you're a good fighter. Why have you never tried to kill him? I mean, you sleep together, he's pretty vulnerable then."

Jounouchi thought Seto would hesitate or be skittish on the subject but he answered plainly, relaying the information quite casually.

"When I was younger, after I was first adopted, I was too weak and any failed attempt would result in Mokuba and myself ending back at the orphanage. Or in jail, or worse. It's been so long since then and, quite honestly..." He froze, as though not expecting himself to falter. He was silent for some time before he blinked and continued as though he'd never slipped. "It's better for Mokuba if I don't. I'm strong enough to deal with what he does to me, why endanger the life I've built for my brother with police and a murder charge? What if they took him away? Not to mention, what if I failed? He is actually very strong. I might be more skilled and I can cope with pain but he only needs to land one good punch and I could be out cold."

"You really think your brother would want to live the rich life if he knew what your dad does to you?" said Jounouchi sceptically. Seto didn't meet his eyes.

"Mokuba never needs to know," Seto's voice dropped so Jounouchi could barely hear it. "I'm too weak to fight him."

"Together we could take him easy," said Jounouchi quietly, picking at the bedsheets next to Seto's hand. "If we wrapped a rope around his neck while he slept, perhaps. We could fake a suicide."

Outside a strong gale was blowing, little gusts of energetic wind finding their way under the cracks around the window and disturbing the numerous wind-chimes. Seto looked at Jounouchi's fidgeting hand. "Are we really talking about this?"

"We really are," Jounouchi answered quietly. "Even if he woke up, I think we could take him. You're quick and agile and I'm pretty strong."

"Yes, I saw your abs," said Seto, amused, but his smile slipped as Jounouchi met his eyes darkly at last night's memory. To his surprise he felt a twinge deep within him which it took for a moment to place as guilt. He gave a small sigh. "I forgot." Jounouchi kept staring at him in silence, expression firm and cold. "Do you want to talk about it?" Seto ventured, having no desire to talk about it himself and expecting Jounouchi to decline.

"Man, it's weird." His expression suddenly brightened and he grinned with an optimism Seto hadn't seen in a long while. "No one would believe me if I told them I lost my virginity to you of all people."

"I didn't know you were a virgin," Seto said, frowning faintly. "You should have told me."

"It doesn't make much of a difference, does it? And anyway, what could you have done differently?"

"I..." Seto closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "I don't know. I tried to make it easy for you."

Jounouchi shrugged, his face still bright. The dark shadows that had surrounded his eyes for days had faded and he met Seto's eyes with a cocky half-smile.

_Perhaps talking about it helps him_, thought Seto. He never discussed his time with his father with anyone, not really, only when pretending it was something other than it was to manipulate someone. Talking didn't change anything; why waste time with it? But Jounouchi evidently felt otherwise, stretching out his arms and back with clear relaxation.

"It wasn't so bad, like, physically," Jounouchi continued, not catching on to Seto's reticence. "I mean, I didn't enjoy it but mostly it just felt weird and a bit uncomfortable. The worst part was... was when your dad was holding my hands on your hips. He made me keep... pulling myself into you..." The carefree air fell away to a familiar sick anger and he gave Seto a tentative look. "Did I hurt you?"

"What? Oh... no."

Jounouchi looked away, flushing a little. "I don't know much about the mechanics and all..."

"When you've done it as many times as I have and you prepare beforehand then it doesn't hurt much. But..." He exhaled. "My father wouldn't let me use a condom with you. You should probably get yourself tested when you can." He laughed harshly. "I'm probably not very clean."

His words sounded suddenly very cold, making Jounouchi look up at Seto through his fringe. The other boy was sat up in bed, legs drawn up to his chest but covered from the hips down with a sheet. He was still naked, the pale skin of his chest looking almost grey in the cold morning light. For the first time he noticed the scars on his front, much fainter than those on his back and far less numerous but nonetheless vicious looking. He wanted to ask about the marks on his back; no, more than that, he wanted to hold that scarred torso close to his own to protect it from ever getting marked like that again. He could almost hear Seto's derisive laughter as he imagined saying that aloud.

He could feel Seto watching him as he studied his chest, not seeming bothered by the attention or even reacting at all, just watching Jounouchi watch him. Jounouchi very, very tentatively reached out a hand and, when Seto didn't react, ran a feathering fingertip over a wide shiny white strip of damaged flesh.

"How did you get these?" he said very quietly.

"How do you think?" Seto said harshly, but he still let him touch the scar and then the others on his chest, exploring the fine thin lines that formed smooth curves across his skin.

"Did they hurt a lot?"

"Some." He swallowed as Jounouchi followed a thin trail that wound around his back where Seto knew it widened and formed a vile purple groove in his skin.

"Can I see your back?"

"Morbid curiosity, mutt?" said Seto, a bitter edge to his voice.

Jounouchi retracted his hand. "Sorry, man. I just..." He trailed off then suddenly brightened. "Hey, you want to see my scars?"

Before Seto had a chance to answer Jounouchi was unbuttoning and pulling off his crumpled shirt then twisting on the bed to show Seto his back, one of his fingers with its bitten down nail pointing to a nasty series of jagged red flecks on his lower back, some an inch thick.

Seto reached out involuntarily, touching his fingers to one of the most severe marks and then recoiling. "What are these from?"

"Those are from a broken bottle," said Jounouchi rather cheerfully, as though enjoying showing off his past wounds. "And over here..." He twisted back around and pulled back the hem of his trousers, showing a dark red line that looked as though it must have been quite severe. "This one's from when I got stabbed way back in my gang days." He kept his shirt pulled up, bending to look at it himself. "It wasn't too deep, luckily, but it still got a lot of stitches. I've got some other less interesting ones but those are the two worst." He pulled his shirt back down and looked up at Seto who was regarding him with tight lips.

"I've never been stabbed," he said tensely. He opened his mouth as if to continue then shut it, frowning as if he still intended to say something else. Then, quite smoothly, he straightened his legs and leaned forwards in one frighteningly flexible motion, resting his forehead on his now straightened knees and baring his back.

"Oh God, Kaiba..." Jounouchi breathed, feeling his throat seize up at the sight of the thick matrix of cuts, bruises, burns, and evidence of various other abuses. He didn't hesitate this time before reaching out his hands to the skin, feeling Seto jerk beneath his touch as he ran his hands over the damaged flesh as though he could smooth it right again.

Seto straightened, pushing Jounouchi away and folding his arms.

"Sorry," said Jounouchi. "Do you mind being touched like that?"

"No," said Seto, a little too quickly. "I don't care about being touched."

"Yes, you do..." said Jounouchi quietly. Seto didn't respond. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You could _never _make me uncomfortable, bonkotsu," said Seto, glaring at the other boy.

Jounouchi sighed as though he didn't quite believe him. "Yeah, okay. I get that you're much better with... being physical than I am. I don't think I could stay calm if I was put in the situations you are."

"Situations?"

"I mean like last night," Jounouchi swallowed. "When your father... I don't know, I wasn't watching." He sighed and began picking again at a loose thread, feeling self conscious under that relentless glare. When he continued to speak it was at a very low volume. "Do you ever enjoy it? I mean... I know you don't _enjoy_ it but..."

He trailed off. Seto watched him picking the thread, slowly unworking it from the frayed purple silk.

"Physically, not particularly. Emotionally, not at all." He paused. He hadn't intended to discuss any of this with Jounouchi; actually, he never had any plans to discuss this with anybody. But if Jounouchi didn't hear it from him then he'd only end up hearing it from his foster father, the truth twisted into some unrecognisable, humiliating shape. He steeled himself and continued. "Sometimes the stimulation is enjoyable. I preferred it with you to with him," he continued in a measured, clipped voice. "Not that that should be a surprise. You're my own age and not unattractive. Also, he can be very rough. At least you don't try to make it painful, although sex with somebody refusing to look at you and lying limp is not particularly titillating." A sick humour caught him and he snorted with laughter. "Funny, I think that's probably one of my father's fetishes. He likes games. He likes it when I'm unresponsive." The cynical smile fell away and he let out a long sigh. "You're at least easy to be with."

"I don't think I was much use," muttered Jounouchi, finally yanking the thread loose and undoing a large section of the sheet. "I was just lying there after all."

"It was your first time, Jounouchi, and I'm sure not how you imagined it. My first time, I..." He swallowed and pursed his lips. "I suppose that was different."

"How old were you?" asked Jounouchi quietly.

"Eleven." Seto answered brusquely then shifted topics again, looking away from Jounouchi's concerned expression. "I didn't want it to be unpleasant for you. I suppose I'm not as skilled as my father bills me as."

"Fucking hell, Kaiba..." Jounouchi muttered and Seto looked at him sharply, the harsh words catching him off guard. "I didn't enjoy it because we were basically forced to fuck at gun point and your foster father was sitting there holding my hands against you the whole time. It's got nothing to do with you personally. Man, I could do a lot worse than Kaiba freaking Seto for my first time."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jounouchi rolled his eyes and fixed Seto with sarcastic accusation. "Come on, don't pretend like you don't know that you're... Well, you know."

"Know what?" Seto said blankly.

"Do you have to make me say it?" he sighed exasperatedly. "You're not exactly what I'd call unattractive."

Seto frowned very slightly, feeling strangely spotlighted in the other's gaze. "I suppose. I can't imagine I attract the number of people that I do through my warm personality." They both smirk simultaneously but Seto's soon faded as he continued. "Although I can't help but think people want to be with me because of something more than that. Something..." He trailed off but quickly spoke again as he saw Jounouchi open his mouth to ask him to elaborate. "When you say I'm attractive, do you mean you're attracted to me?"

"No. Well, I mean," Jounouchi faltered, frowned, then ran a hand through his uncombed hair. "I'm not gay. Well, I've never thought about guys. I know I like women and getting dates has never been too hard for me."

Seto snorted.

"Oh, shut up, rich boy," Jounouchi grinned. "You just told me yourself how cute and ripped I am." His grin slipped away and he began to chew his lip, trying to find another thread to tug at. "I just mean I've never been in a situation where guys have been a viable alternative. Guys are... Well, most of the guys I knew growing up were the street type, pretty crude and macho, and not exactly into talking about homosexuality. And I don't think I'd ever find that kind of guy attractive anyway so I've never really thought about it."

"I'd hardly describe most of your current friends like that." Seto smirked. "Certainly not Yuugi, or that Bakura boy." He paused for a fraction of a second. "Or me. Not that we're friends," he added.

"Well, I'd don't know what I'd say if Yuugi came onto me," he said uncertainly. "I don't know. You're..." Seto's expression was completely blank, save for an intense bright glow in his eyes. Jounouchi sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand through his hair. "Man, stop asking me difficult questions."

"They're not difficult," said Seto lightly.

Jounouchi looked at him sceptically. "Oh sure, of course they're not. Alright, so what about you? Are you gay?"

"Hn." Seto shrugged very slightly, considering his answer for the briefest of moments. "I've known I liked boys since I was very young, at least since the orphanage if not before."

"Wow," said Jounouchi quietly. "I had no idea. Do a lot of people know?"

"I'm not open about it," Seto answered. "Mokuba knows. I'm sure some of the staff here figured it out." He frowned very slightly. "You're the first person I've actually told. Mokuba grew up knowing I would get crushes on other boys, before either of us were old enough to understand these things, so he just figured it out naturally. My foster father... He would read my diary, and one day I wrote an entry about missing a boy at the orphanage I had feelings for. He was furious, at least at first. Then he realised how he could use it to manipulate and shame me. 'I thought this is what you liked,' he'd say, and make me..." He cut himself off again and clenched his jaw. "I started writing my diaries in code after that."

Jounouchi stared at him, slightly awed that he'd just confessed something that seemed so personal. "I appreciate you telling me," he said, not expecting any response and not getting any. "So, do you not like women at all?"

Seto shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not _unattracted _to women, per se, but then I have been conditioned to accept any sexual partner that will have me so... I'm not sure what it would feel like to be repulsed by someone."

"Does your foster father repulse you?"

"Yes," Seto said immediately. "And... no. Of course he does, I detest him and everything he does to me. But... Six years, Jounouchi..." He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. "That does things to you. I don't always hate it when he touches me. He can make it feel..." He broke off. "I don't want to talk about this." He opened his eyes and sighed then frowned again. "Jounouchi, can you please stop unravelling the bedsheets."

"You need new ones anyway. When was the last time you even washed these? They smell..." He bent and pressed his nose to the sheets, immediately recoiling. "They smell _not good_, Kaiba."

"They've never been washed," Seto replied, his voice suddenly extremely distant. "My father wanted me to... He likes me to be reminded of what I let people do to me." He looked away. "We just buy new ones and pile them atop the old."

Feeling the tension in Seto's voice, Jounouchi cracked an awkward grin. "Your dad's pretty weird, you know that?"

"It had occurred to me," Seto replied mirthlessly.

An uncomfortable silence set in as Seto's thoughts absorbed him, thoughts which Jounouchi guessed to not be very pleasant. He was surprised when it was Seto who broke the silence.

"Speaking of," he said, "where is my father? What time is it?"

"He wasn't here when I woke up. And it's..." He turned to rummage for a watch on the bedside table. "It's half ten."

"_What_? How could I have overslept so much?" Seto frowned, looking up at the locked bedroom door. "Why wouldn't he wake me? I have classes."

"I think he left in the night. It was still dark outside when I woke up." Jounouchi gave an awkward smile. "And you didn't oversleep _that_ much. We've been talking for a long time."

"Hn."

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. "Good thing you put a stop to that. We nearly had a personal connection going on there. We could have had-" -he clutched his hands to his face in mock horror- "-_a conversation! _Oh, the humanity!"

Seto didn't react to the theatrics, still staring thoughtfully at the door. "Perhaps he's resentful because I slept closer to you. He can be so..." He frowned, searching for the right term.

"Insane?" Jounouchi supplied unhelpfully.

"Jealous. 'Possessive' would perhaps be a better term." He continued his contemplative staring. "Usually I don't mind sleeping next to him but... I mean, it's just flesh, what does it matter? I just..." His jaw worked as he tried to get past the sentence, whatever it was.

"I like sleeping with you," said Jounouchi suddenly, receiving a raised eyebrow from Seto. "You holding me was comforting. It made me feel safer."

"I'm not a very safe person to be around, Jounouchi," Seto murmured, closing his eyes. He opened them in shock a moment later as he felt two strong arms yanking him once more against Jounouchi's chest. "Oh, for god's sake..."

Jounouchi didn't let him go, shifting on the bed awkwardly so he could hold him closer. "I'm just glad I'm not alone here, man."

"Idiot," muttered Seto, not returning the hug but not pushing him off either.

Jounouchi settled down beside him, sliding clumsily under the bedsheets to hold Seto in a more comfortable position. "You can play at being aloof asshole all you like but I, like most sane human beings, enjoy things like comfort and intimacy in horrible situations."

Head pressed uncomfortably against Jounouchi's chest, Seto spoke as if to himself. "Intimacy comes at a price."

"It doesn't have to," Jounouchi replied, pulling Seto a little closer beneath the sheets, feeling their legs flush against one another. As he pressed his hips forward he became suddenly unavoidably aware of Seto's nudity, feeling Seto's genitalia press against his own uniformed trousers, and he jerked back involuntarily, feeling very embarrassed both for noticing and flinching.

Seto understood immediately, before Jounouchi had a chance to make some excuse, and pulled out of the now deeply awkward embrace. "My being naked makes you uncomfortable?"

Jounouchi sighed in frustration, rubbing a hand sheepishly through his mussed hair. "I know, it shouldn't, right? It's dumb to feel self conscious with someone you've slept with."

"Hardly," said Seto, rolling onto his back and folding his arms across his bare chest. "God knows I have no intention of letting most of the people I've fucked see me naked again."

"But you don't mind me?"

Seto rolled his head to the side and looked up at Jounouchi from upside down, his expression amused and exasperated. "You're Jounouchi Katsuya. Why would you make me self-conscious? I'm your superior in every way, we both know this."

Rather than laughing at the insult that seemed to pass for Seto's idea of humour Jounouchi sighed quietly, looking at those cold blue eyes that were sometimes so impenetrable and sometimes so clear. The brief bursts of latter seemed to come more frequently. He didn't speak and as Seto watched him in silence the amusement faded, leaving something that was not quite his usual cold expression, but remained just as unfathomable.

"I just want us to be able to look after one another." Jounouchi spoke steadily, holding Seto's gaze and biting his tongue as he considered his words. "I think it would make it easier for both of us."

"I don't want or need your compassion," said Seto, the coldness again returning. "It's not my problem if you're too weak to cope."

Jounouchi bit his tongue even harder to stop himself yelling in frustration, almost growling as he spoke. "Seto, there's enough lies and bullshit in this place as it is. Stop making it worse. I'm not going to try to trick you or fuck with your head, so could you just do me a favour and do the same?"

There was a long silence, Seto's eyes back to the unreadable, unassailable depths they had been before. He answered curtly.

"No. This is who I am."

"It doesn't have to be, Seto. I'm on your side, can't you just drop the defences a little and let me be?"

Seto met Jounouchi's eyes with a very cold glare. "Stop calling me 'Seto', Jounouchi."

"Sorry, I didn't..." Jounouchi started instinctively, then persevered. "Why can't I call you that?"

"Only my father calls me 'Seto'," he said immediately, features touched with disgust.

"That's hardly a counter argument. I just want to be... I don't know, 'nice'."

"_Nice_," Seto spat, as though the word revolted him. "Your naïvety knows no bounds."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Kaiba, will you shut up-" Jounouchi started, his patience waning, but Seto cut across him.

"No, Jounouchi, _you _shut up. If you haven't learnt it already let me elucidate: in this place, this school, compassion means _nothing_. It has no value, no currency; it will not save you and for you to pretend than sitting in bed together fooling around is supposed to be somehow _helpful_ then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought possible."

"We weren't fooling around, we were just hanging out," said Jounouchi cautiously, a little hurt.

"Same thing," said Seto, a little too flatly, through sneering lips. "There's always a game being played."

"I'm not playing, I just want to help you!" Jounouchi took a measured breath to calm his angry tone. "You saved my life," Jounouchi continued very quietly. "If you hadn't stepped up for me-"

"You would have been better off," Seto spat. "Your life wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if it wasn't for me. And even if I hadn't, better off dead than-"

"Than here with you?"

"Than..." He blinked, faltering, eyes flicking away from Jounouchi's. "Better than-"

"Seto," said Jounouchi angrily, almost shouting to drown out the other's voice. "If you gave me a choice right now to leave or stay here with you, I'd stay."

"No you wouldn't," Seto said immediately, but he couldn't meet Jounouchi's eyes.

"Maybe I wouldn't at first. But now... Yeah, I would." Jounouchi took a heavy breath. "I won't abandon you."

Seto inhaled sharply. "Then you're an idiot."

"Well, _yeah_, like that should be any surprise to you," Jounouchi said, smiling despite himself. Seto's expression remained hard but he let Jounouchi lean forwards and hug him delicately, not as awkwardly as before. He sighed and bent his head forwards, resting it on Jounouchi's shoulder, feeling very tired and not quite up for the fight any more. Jounouchi continued to hold him, stroking his naked back gently and feeling the many scars run under his fingertips.

When the sound of footsteps sounded from below Jounouchi tried to pull back but, for the first time, Seto hugged him back and held him close. Jounouchi hesitated, a familiar fear welling up in him but then slowly quelling as he felt Seto's arms wind around his waist. Resigned, he looked up over Seto's shoulder at the door as he kept his arms wrapped tight around the fragile form in his arms.

* * *

It wasn't the first time Gozaburo had walked in a room to see his son in another's man's arms, not by a long shot. It wasn't even a rare occurrence to intrude upon him naked with another man. But usually, when Gozaburo opened the door and whichever teacher or wealthy student looked up from Seto's naked body to see the elder Kaiba standing there, they would move away guiltily, apologetic to him for tampering with his son, for playing with his possession. Never before had Gozaburo's entrance not even stirred Seto's partner from his embrace.

"Is this what happens when you don't go to class?" Gozaburo sneered, slamming the door shut. "You completely give in to your animal instincts?"

Seto casually unhooked his arms from around Jounouchi's body and pulled slowly away. "We were just talking."

If anything this seemed to make Gozaburo more angry. "Talking? Naked, in bed?"

As Jounouchi felt himself be surveyed by an incensed Gozaburo he suddenly realised that the man would be much less angry if they _had_ been having sex. The man understood sex; it wasn't a threat to him. But talking? His son half curled in Jounouchi's cradling arms? That was different.

"I don't see the problem," said Seto, something patronising and arrogant lurking deep within his voice. "I thought you wanted us to get closer."

Gozaburo ignored his son and fixed his eyes on Jounouchi, parting his lips and running a tongue along his teeth. "Do you think you can satisfy him?"

Seto rolled his eyes. When Gozaburo didn't speak again Jounouchi realised that this was yet another apparently rhetorical question he was expected to answer.

"I hadn't thought much about it, sir." Despite his good intentions the 'sir' sounded mocking even to Jounouchi's ears. He didn't have time to correct himself before Gozaburo was by the bedside and drawing back his fist. Jounouchi's arms went up to cover his face but it did little good, the brutal punch catching him on the side of the skull and making his vision blank out for a moment.

"Insolent _filth_," the man spat as Jounouchi pushed himself back up to a sitting position. "You think you'll ever be enough for him? You couldn't even make him cum." The man's strong fist grasped Jounouchi's collar and half pulled him off the bed, into the air. "You'll _never_ be good enough for my family, you weak, useless piece of shit."

Seto looked perfectly at ease as he watched the little scene of violence but beneath his calm expression he was humming with eager strength, ready at any moment to spring catlike towards the two and pull them apart. But he couldn't, he knew that. It would only result in a worse beating for either of them. Instead he took a breath and spoke softly, expertly moulding his words around the situation and his father's insecurities.

"Maybe he won't, father. He's just a child." He hesitated almost imperceptibly, knowing what his father's reaction would be to the next line, but the fear in Jounouchi's eyes as he half hung suspended in Gozaburo's grasp was more than enough to make him finish. "He hasn't learnt how to please."

Gozaburo's dark eyes met Seto's over Jounouchi's shoulder, ignoring the struggling boy. "Should we teach him?" he said quietly, smiling wickedly before adding, "_son?_"

Seto returned a similar cold smile and his father released Jounouchi, who fell back to the bed breathing heavily and angrily. "_Don't_-" he struggled out past the fear and fury but Seto flashed him a disgusted look and Jounouchi got the feeling that he had somehow managed to let him down again.

"I'll give you a demonstration, Katsuya," said Gozaburo's low voice in a tone that made Jounouchi's stomach turn. The man walked around to Seto's side of the bed and ran his eyes long his son's body, still naked but covered beneath the sheets. "I'll show you how it's done..." he murmured, more to himself than the two boys.

Seto slid down the bed to reposition himself in a more accommodating pose, lying flat so that his foster father could climb atop both the bed and his son with ease. Jounouchi stared hard at Seto over the elder Kaiba's shoulder, his expression pleading, but when Seto met Jounouchi's gaze it was with eyes resigned and calm. _Don't interfere,_ they seemed to say.

He lay back and allowed his father to move him about the bed as he pleased, lifting his son's arms above his head to restrain the narrow, delicate wrists within his own strong hands. Jounouchi looked away as the man pressed his lips to his son's, unable to stop himself hearing the revolting sounds of their lips moving together. His eyes shot back to the scene as Seto cried out briefly in pain, his father's teeth, bared in a sick smile, pulling at Seto's lower lip. A tiny amount of blood welled up around the bite.

"Leave him _alone!_" shouted Jounouchi, his poor self-restraint buckling. Gozaburo released his son's lips and grinned at him as Jounouchi clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay still and not do something stupid. "Please..." he said helplessly, watching paralysed as Gozaburo obviously and deliberately licked the blood from his teeth. "Please, don't..."

"Stop it, Jounouchi..." Seto murmured, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together so that the small wound spread the blood to his upper lip as well. Jounouchi shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to see Gozaburo lick the blood from his son's lips.

"He likes it _rough_, Katsuya," the man said and Jounouchi opened his eyes again to see the man bite at Seto's lips again, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to make Seto's bound hands twitch slightly. Gozaburo leaned back, surveying the boy trapped beneath him, then transferred Seto's wrists to one hand and drew his free hand back to slap his son very hard across the face. Seto made a small noise of what Jounouchi assumed was pain, but it was difficult to tell. He slapped him again, and again, and Seto's face soon relaxed into acceptance, meeting his father's glare after every stroke with half open eyes.

"Do you like that sound, Katsuya?" Gozaburo asked, pausing before slapping Seto particularly hard and drawing out that shrill moan at a louder volume. "Do you think that means that it hurts, or that he wants more?" He laughed carelessly and slapped his son several more times in quick succession, every blow drawing out another moan. "Do you think it might be both?"

He delivered one more very vicious slap then drew his hand away, sliding down his son's body and over the bedsheets which covered his legs. He rubbed roughly at the cloth, making Seto jerk once against the strong hand restraining him before relaxing again, letting his father touch him.

"You see, Katsuya?" Gozaburo whispered. "He likes it really."

He pulled his hand away and Jounouchi wished he hadn't seen the sheets crumpled around Seto's erection.

Gozaburo slapped his son again. Seto's face had reddened from the strikes but below his neck, where his father hadn't hit him at all, a patchy blush had appeared. His hips began to shift slightly on the bed as his father continued to slap him with an almost affectionate look in his eye. Seto didn't seem very aware of what was going on, his expression growing increasingly distant and relaxed the more he was hit.

Gozaburo slapped his son one final time, eliciting the loudest moan yet, then rested his hand on his son's face. He caressed the skin, rubbing Seto's red, open lips with his thumb, then slid his fingers down to his throat. He released Seto's hands but the boy didn't make any move to get away, instead leaving his arms above his head and crossed at the wrists in mimicry of his restriction. Gozaburo moved both hands to his son's throat, tightening his grip until Seto's breathing began to come in shallow hisses, still moving his hips on the bed and now began to arch his back as well.

"He loves the pain," Gozaburo breathed, digging his fingers ever tighter into his son's throat. Jounouchi couldn't tear his eyes away from Seto; his glazed eyes, his full, parted lips, his arching back. It was as though Seto wasn't even in there any more, so vacant did he look. "You could never hope to please him, you don't have it in you."

Seto's ragged, almost pleasured breathing cut off altogether as his father's grip made it impossible to get any air into his lungs. His body continued to undulate in rhythmic tenses and relaxations of unmistakeable pleasure, his face slack and blank eyed, the soft mouth half open in ecstasy. His face was horribly empty. The movements slowed, then warped into uncomfortable writhing, the ecstasy gone, face fading into a vague frown.

Jounouchi looked up to Gozaburo in horror to see a mad, excited spark in the man's eyes, far more ecstatic than his son's expression had just been. Seto's eyes refocused and quiet constricted chokes began to issue from his lips. He stared up at his father, hands curled into tight fists to stop himself fighting back, expectant and trusting that he'd be allowed to breathe again soon. Soon, very soon.

The trusting resignation began to fade into confusion, then panic, and Gozaburo's fingers flexed and squeezed that little bit tighter.

"_You'll kill him!_" Jounouchi heard himself shriek, as if from very far away, and then with a similar disconnection saw his fist collide with the man's neck.

The sound rushed back to his ears like crashing water and he heard Seto gasping, his eyes wide as he clutched his throat and forced desperate gulps of air into his lungs. Gozaburo had fallen beside him but was pulling himself up now, one hand on his own neck, looking somewhat unsteady. Jounouchi only had a moment to meet Gozaburo's eyes, wild and dark, before the man grabbed Jounouchi's own throat neck and threw him with ease across the room where he landed hard against the red painted stone wall with a horrible crack and a deep spike of pain.

Jounouchi pulled himself up from the floor, brushing the hair out of his eyes, but had barely looked up before his whole body froze. He was staring at the end of a gun barrel.

Gozaburo cocked the gun. "_You_-" he started, voice thick with fury, but got no further as a strong, elegant hand clutched the gun and brought it up in one incredibly swift motion.

A shot rang out.

Dust rained from the ceiling.

Seto and Gozaburo stood each with one hand on the gun, holding it high above their heads, each staring at one another with such complex hatred that Jounouchi wasn't sure whose eyes were the most dangerous.

"My dear," began Gozaburo, lip pulled back over his teeth in what vaguely resembled a smile, "sweet son, please let go the gun. I need to shoot this boy and I would rather not hurt you more than necessary in order to do that."

"Don't," whispered Seto, his voice cracked.

Gozaburo inhaled in an angry hiss. "I shall do what I like with him, Seto. Just as I shall do what I like with _you,_" he extended his other hand to trail lightly over Seto's naked body, making his son flinch slightly.

"Yes, you can do what you like," said Seto, his voice hard. "But what would it prove?"

Gozaburo's eyes flashed. He took a step towards his son, making Seto lean back involuntarily as the man pressed their faces close together. "_Excuse me?_"

"It won't prove that you're stronger. If anything, killing him proves that he's a problem for you. It would be admitting defeat."

For a moment Jounouchi thought the elder Kaiba was actually going to murder his son, so intense was the fury and indignation in his eyes, his face, his entire body right down to the hand holding the gun which quivered slightly in his grip.

Jounouchi's whole body jolted as the punch landed against Seto's jaw, the boy hardly managing to stay upright from the force of his father's fist. But Gozaburo said nothing. Seto had won.

Gozaburo turned and looked at Jounouchi, curled in the corner, and casually pointed the gun at him. "He won't last, Seto. I give it a month." He turned suddenly and pressed the gun barrel against Seto's head, grinding it into his temple, smirking as Seto attempted to maintain his posture, clenching his teeth but staying silent. "What will be most fun, Seto," Gozaburo continued, releasing the pressure of the gun and sliding it down to Seto's cheek, "will be when he takes all your noble sacrifices and throws them back in your face."

Seto tried not to flinch as his father trailed the gun along his face, pressing it insistently against his lips. Seto's eyes widened very slightly, weighing his fear of the gun between fear of disobeying his father while he was wielding said gun, then opened his mouth obligingly. The barrel was uncomfortably large. _Even for someone_, Seto thought drily, _who's had as many things in his mouth as I have_. He kept his eyes fixed on his father as the man slid the gun in deeper, metal and oil making his tongue twitch.

When Gozaburo spoke his voice was almost a whisper. "When he betrays you, Seto, perhaps you will finally learn your lesson about putting your faith in your little fuck toys. Everyone betrays you. One day, I will be all you have left."

He withdrew the gun. Seto tried and failed to suppress a convulsive retch and avoided his father's amused eyes.

"Seto..." Jounouchi breathed in concern, too quietly for either of the Kaibas to hear.

"Why must you disappoint me again and again, Seto?" murmured Gozaburo. He sounded strangely exhausted and Jounouchi felt a rush of hot fury at the man's delusion and self involvement, for a moment more angry at the man's narrow-mindedness than what he had just done to his son. "I've given you so much..." Seto remained obstinately silent. Gozaburo sighed. "Go through to the study. I'll join you in a moment."

Seto nodded curtly and reached for a robe to cover himself but Gozaburo slapped his hand away. Seto didn't acknowledge Jounouchi as he left the room, making no indication that his nudity bothered him as Gozaburo let him out of the apartment door. Once Seto was gone Jounouchi found himself with Gozaburo's attention trained entirely on him, the man surveying Jounouchi's form crumpled on the floor.

Jounouchi stood up slowly, staring hard at the man before him with clenched teeth. Gozaburo met his glare with disdain. "What are you going to do to him?" Jounouchi asked.

"I'm going to punish him," the man replied, "for forgetting his place. And as for you..."

Jounouchi barely saw the man's hand move before the punch hit him in the stomach. He fell back to the floor, clutching his agonised chest, and the man kicked at his head, his arms, anywhere he was vulnerable.

The assault went on for several minutes, pain erupting under what seemed like endless blows, but eventually it stopped. Jounouchi remained curled on the floor, not wanting to move. He had taken worse beatings, back in his gang days, but certainly not many. The blows weren't random; the elder Kaiba took pleasure in the hurt he caused.

Jounouchi's body convulsed with coughs and he felt blood fill his mouth, spitting out flecks of a slightly darker shade than the red wall on which they fell. Through the pain he remembered Kaiba's determined eyes, thinking of him standing waiting in that study to be punished, and so he bit back his anger and threats and forced himself to look up at Gozaburo, who was staring down at him in angry silence.

"I'm sorry, Gozaburo," Jounouchi managed, his voice sounding pathetically broken to his own ears. "It won't happen again."

Gozaburo said nothing, only the faintest ghost of disgust in his features acknowledging that he had heard the boy's words. He held Jounouchi's gaze for a moment longer before turning away from the beaten boy, following his son out, and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Seto was gone for hours.

Jounouchi sat in a motionless huddle on the bed, reluctant to move his beaten body more than necessary, but from behind the wall that connected the bedroom to the study the occasional scream would sound and Jounouchi's body would jolt, sending all his new bruises into pulsing pain again. He couldn't hear anything else, no sounds of beating or shouting, just those rare shrieks of pain. Jounouchi knew that Seto wouldn't be crying out so loud unless the pain was extremely intense. He wanted to vomit.

Shaky and exhausted, Jounouchi watched through the gap in the curtains as the sky very slowly darkened. The night crawled on and still the screams came, rare though they were, until Jounouchi thought he was hallucinating them. He buried his face in his hands and waited, rocking back and forth and trying not to scream himself. There was nothing he could do, nothing at all save sit and listen to those few screams that Seto couldn't suppress.

It was well after sunset when Jounouchi heard the door to the study open. He jumped up from the bed, immediately regretting his decision as pain shot through him, but he remained standing and watched the door.

After what seemed like an eternity the door opened and a pale, naked figure stepped inside. It was shut behind him. Footsteps disappeared into the distance.

For a long moment neither boy said anything. Then, slowly, Seto raised his face and met Jounouchi's eyes with a cold, disgusted glare. "You idiot, Jounouchi, you _idiot_," he spat. His entire body was shaking, little round cuts covering his skin as though something long and thin had been driven under the skin, and a large purple bruise covered most of his right cheek and the area around his eye. But his voice was strong as he spoke, albeit icy and vibrating with fury. "You could have got both of us killed. Do you-" he cut off in confusion as Jounouchi half ran, half limped towards him.

Jounouchi had barely heard his admonishments, carried by his feet without realising over to the other boy and grabbing his arms, holding him still. He ignored the enraged glare he received and stared at him with frightened eyes. "Seto, tell me you're okay. Please, just tell me you're okay."

Seto blinked, then yanked his arms away. "I'm fine, bonkotsu."

He wasn't released for long, however, as Jounouchi pulled him into a desperate hug, digging one hand deep into his hair and wrapping the other around his waist.

"I'm so sorry, Seto, I'm so sorry," he whispered into the boy's ear. "I thought he was going to kill you, I didn't know what to do-"

"Get _off_ me, you..." Seto pulled himself out of Jounouchi's grasp but he couldn't finish the insult. He looked closely at Jounouchi's face for a brief moment then seemed to reach some private conclusion. The anger went out of him and his mouth set in a firm line, frowning slightly. "Yes. I see."

Jounouchi stood panting with desperate, exhausted fear and fury. Seto watched him quite calmly as he pulled back a fist and violently punched the wall, dislodging some red coated flakes of plaster.

"_Fuck!_" he screamed, balling his fingers into his hair and tugging at the roots. "I wish Honda was here. We've taken on guys twice your dad's size and won easily."

"Did they carry guns?" said Seto, a sardonic lilt to the otherwise blunt question. Jounouchi ignored him.

"Or I wish Yuugi was here. He'd know what to do, what to say to you that wouldn't piss you off so much."

Seto watched Jounouchi's outburst and felt an amused, not entirely patronising affection touch him. "You suffice," he said quietly, smiling very gently. "Come on." He laid a hand on Jounouchi's trembling, tensed fist. "Lie down with me."

Jounouchi looked at him, confused. "What?"

"Just lie down for a while. You could use the rest, and so could I."

Seto shut the light off and climbed into the bed, enjoying the cool, soft sheets beneath his aching bones. He watched impassively as Jounouchi stripped out of his uniform, down to his boxers, then pulled a loose t-shirt he'd found over his chest. He got into bed next to Seto, sliding towards him despite the ample space in the bed now that there were only two of them in it. He brushed against the other's limbs and jerked away at the ice cold skin.

"Shit, you're freezing," he muttered, drawing closer. Seto said nothing but he could feel his entire body shivering, vaguely registering that he'd spent the better part of the past twenty four hours naked and in varying degrees of pain. It was nothing new, but Jounouchi's concerned expression seemed to make it more real, somehow. "Don't you want to put some clothes on?"

Seto pursed his lips, lying limp as Jounouchi rubbed a warming hand over his cold arms. "I hadn't even thought about it. I don't own any night clothes. My father-"

"Yeah, I get it," Jounouchi interjected. Seto threw him a sharp look, readying an insult, but his vehemence dulled when he saw the sick horror still clouding Jounouchi's eyes. He'd had enough for one day.

They lay together in the cold bed, Jounouchi sure that his body temperature dropped a degree every minute he spent pressed against Seto's freezing form, but he didn't relinquish his grip. He covered Seto's body as well as he could with his own, not flinching away this time from the impression of Seto's body against his clothes. Beneath him, Seto sighed exasperatedly.

"Jounouchi, can you please get off me."

Jounouchi ignored him. "Do you have any idea just how cold you are?"

"Yes, thanks, I can tell," Seto said irritably, "but you're practically lying on top of me."

Jounouchi drew back immediately, wincing. "Was I hurting you?"

Seto made a noise of derision. "No, it's not that." He sounded amused.

"Then what-" started Jounouchi, but Seto cut him off.

"Listen, Jounouchi, I'm going to take you up on your offer," Seto said quickly, "but we need to wait until Christmas."

"My offer?" said Jounouchi blankly. "Oh... You mean-"

"I mean about killing my foster father," he said in a clipped voice. "He's a deeply paranoid man and I don't know what sort of measures he has in place in the event of his death. When it happens I need to know where my brother is. If he wanted to get back at me after his death you can bet he'd have someone in place to hurt Mokuba." Jounouchi felt him tense beneath the bedsheets as he clenched his fists. "I won't let that happen. The holidays are the only time I'm allowed to see my brother so we need to wait until then, clear?"

"Yeah, I understand," said Jounouchi slowly, one arm still around Seto, fingers still running up and down his skin. "But... Seto, fuck, that's months away. Are you going to be okay until-"

"I'll be fine," Seto said impatiently. "As will you be."

Jounouchi smiled, looking at Seto's face in the room's cool blue light. He didn't look at all frightened, face full of confidence and a familiar resignation. His eye was deeply bruised. "You trust me not to screw up again?"

Seto sighed and a small sarcastic smile touched his mouth. "I have faith in your ability to deal with my father's demands. I do not have faith in your critical reasoning or self restraint." His face hardened. "But, Jounouchi, you _can't_ disobey him like that again. He will kill you."

"Yeah," said Jounouchi quietly. "I know. I just... It was really hard to see him do that to you, you know? I thought he was going to kill you."

"Unlikely," Seto said flatly. "He just enjoys his games. Besides..." He trailed off into silence and sighed instead, closing his eyes. "It doesn't matter."

Jounouchi looked at him in the darkness, at his exhausted features, the cut on his lip, the scars on his shoulders both old and new and felt something stir within him. Seized by a mix of frightened empathy for Seto and a desperate desire for comfort, Jounouchi suddenly leaned forwards and kissed Seto's cheek.

He received a look of deep contempt in return. "What the hell was that for?"

Jounouchi shrugged, grinning. "I don't know. Does it matter? We have had sex, after all."

"Don't-" started Seto then cut himself off with an angry sigh. "Just don't."

"Don't kiss you? You've kissed me before."

"That was different," said Seto icily. "We had no choice. If you're trying to comfort or pity me then you're wasting your time."

"I did mean it like that..." said Jounouchi quietly. "I just felt... Sometimes I get so scared and... Well, you're all I have." He swallowed, regretting his phrasing. "But it's not just because there's nobody else here. It's... You've done a lot for me, even if you're not going to admit it. I do think of you as a friend, even if you don't feel the same, and it's nice to be close to those you care about."

Seto looked at him for a moment, expression unreadable, then suddenly he was on top of him, hands curled into Jounouchi's hair, tongue pressed immediately into a mouth too surprised to resist, lips soft and eager around Jounouchi's own. For a moment Jounouchi felt like giving in, surrendering to the comfort and warmth so he wouldn't have to think about what was happening any more, letting himself dissolve in that hot, gentle mouth... But then Seto pulled away. He looked down at Jounouchi, still poised above him, and Jounouchi felt suddenly nauseous at the deadness in the blue eyes staring down at him.

"Do you know what I feel when I kiss you, Jounouchi?" he said, voice cold. "Nothing. I feel nothing. You could fuck me right now and I wouldn't feel anything. Not emotionally. I'm not even there. When my father's on me I'm hardly aware he's even in the room. When you were inside me I could barely remember who you were. So if you want me, you can have me. It means nothing to me. But don't screw around with chaste kisses and hugs and the rest of that nonsense."

Jounouchi stared. Then, he took a very long, deep breath, and exhaled very steadily.

"No one, and I mean _no one_ can make me feel as pissed and frustrated as you can, Kaiba," he said. "You just have this knack."

Seto sneered at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, for a moment there I actually thought you were being sincere. I thought you were showing me part of the real you and that you wanted comfort the same way I did. But no, just more mind games, which is totally what we both need right now." Seto said nothing, just kept glaring. Jounouchi took another steadying breath, thinking that his self restraint had at least improved a little bit. "I was thinking today," he said slowly, "that your dad doesn't really get the differences and relationship between sex and intimacy. Has that attitude rubbed off on you?"

Seto looked at him as if he'd been struck. "How dare you..." he began, raising his head from the pillow, but then seemed to lose the energy for speaking. His features fell into an expression of exhaustion and what could have been shame, looking away from Jounouchi and out into the night. He stared out at the grey, blurred shapes of the dark bedroom, brow creased and eyes burning as though he were having a great secret deliberation with himself. Then, slowly and resignedly, he lowered his head back to the pillows, resting it next to Jounouchi's so their foreheads were touching. "Perhaps." He said finally. "I'm sorry for kissing you."

"It's fine," said Jounouchi quietly. "I didn't mind."

Seto laughed to himself. "Oh, Jounouchi..." he sighed, pressing their heads closer together. "I'm such a mess."

Jounouchi tilted his head, seeking out Seto's eyes in the darkness. Even in the black they shone their fierce blue, meeting his own eyes with a strange unfathomable smile. For a moment everything was so calm, so quiet, just the two of them lying together in one another's gaze beneath the canopy of artfully woven stars.

But just for a moment.

The door crashed open. It smashed against the wardrobe and barely remained whole, sending flecks of wood and paint over the room. Seto and Jounouchi sat up immediately and simultaneously, Jounouchi clutching at Seto's hand without even realising, both of them staring at the dark shape standing in the doorway.

"We're not finished yet," said Gozaburo, his voice rumbling with fury. He slammed the door behind them and stood in the darkness, staring down at the bed in which his son and the boy he'd just tried to murder lay. He took a step forward and yanked back the bedsheets, exposing Jounouchi's shivering form and Seto's still naked body. His face was unreadable in the thick darkness but the anger he radiated was palpable. He leant down and grabbed Seto's ankle, yanking it towards him. Seto cried out in surprise as he was pulled across the bed, his father releasing him when his head was level with Jounouchi's hips, but Gozaburo hadn't let him go for long, reaching forward again to grab his hair. Seto exclaimed again as he was lifted off the bed, his hands going instinctively to the grip in his hair. Gozaburo pulled him to the left and dropped him, depositing him half over Jounouchi. Seto tried to push himself up but his father's strong hand on his neck forced his head back down.

"Father..." he choked out, the air going out of him as his father slammed his hand into his back and making him collapse again.

"Put his cock in your mouth, Seto," Gozaburo spat. "Show me that you're good for _something_."

Jounouchi stared down at Seto in the darkness, the other's face concealed by his hair. He raised his head, blue eyes glinting in the darkness and met Jounouchi's. Disguised by the folds of the bedsheets Jounouchi's fingers found Seto's and this time Seto took them, clasping their hands together so hard Jounouchi had to bite his tongue to keep himself from crying out.

"Yes, sir," said Seto to his father, but his eyes were fixed brightly on Jounouchi's. He held his gaze as he opened his mouth, as he flicked out his tongue, as he nipped very lightly at the skin and rolled his tongue and lips around the head of Jounouchi's reluctantly growing erection. He didn't look away even as he took him entirely into his mouth, encasing Jounouchi in soft warmth and pressing him against his smooth, shifting tongue, and although part of Jounouchi wanted very much to look away or close his eyes he held Seto's gaze, concentrating so hard on their burning intensity that he couldn't even hear the commands Gozaburo was giving them.

Jounouchi wanted to pull away, wanted to let his anger and shame take him over and push Seto away and lunge at the man watching them, but he forced himself to lie still. And the longer he lay there the dimmer the urge to fight grew. He did want it to stop, he did want to break his gaze away from Seto's and pull his body away from his mouth. But it felt good, so good... And yet, over the seething pleasure and the guilt and the humiliation, beyond the fear and the quivering intense heat growing within him, Jounouchi felt Seto's hand clasping his own, strong and certain, binding their fingers together in the cool darkness.

* * *

**I can't say for certain when the next chapter will be up but I have already written about a third of it. Redrafts are what take the longest. Thanks for reading.**


	7. The Bottom of the Well

"Harder."

Jounouchi let out a small sigh of exasperation, the body beneath him feeling so fragile that going _harder_ might shatter it. But he gritted his teeth and drove his hips forwards harder all the same, meeting deep, tight resistance and hearing Seto's breath catch. Jounouchi stopped himself at the soft sound, eyes opening to see Seto lying with arched back beneath him, head tilted back and eyes closed.

"For God's sake, Katsuya, _harder_." Behind him, in his usual grand arm chair, Gozaburo took a long drag on his cigar. "You're not going to break him."

Jounouchi hesitated, giving Seto's wrists a gentle squeeze within his loose grip. He was supposed to be restraining him, holding Seto's scarred wrists against the mattress on either side of his head, but his grasp was very loose. At the soft pressure on his wrists Seto's eyes cracked open, looking up at Jounouchi through clouded, faraway eyes. His lips twitched in a strange smile.

"Go on, Jounouchi," he murmured, nudging the other's back with his knee. "Do as he says. Do it harder."

Steeling himself, Jounouchi increased his grip on Seto's wrists and thrust roughly into him again. Seto drew air into his lungs with a faint, pained whine. Jounouchi bit his tongue but didn't stop moving his hips, as instructed. He lowered his head to Seto's to press their foreheads together and spoke in a low whisper that he vainly hoped Gozaburo wouldn't hear.

"Are you alright? Am I hurting you?"

Jounouchi heard Gozaburo mutter something irritably behind them but he was too distracted to catch it as he met Seto's distant eyes.

"Yes..." he said and Jounouchi winced, trying to slow his pace without the elder Kaiba noticing. Seto gave him an amused, almost patronising smile as he felt him slow. "But don't stop."

Jounouchi paused, holding Seto's amused gaze for a moment longer before Seto's eyes fluttered closed again and he arched his back higher, wrapping his legs around Jounouchi's waist and pulling him deeper into him. Jounouchi did as he was bade.

His shoulders shivered despite the heat of their rubbing flesh and his own arousal, a thin layer of ice covering the glass of the balcony doors. Winter was setting in and the high apartment seemed an almost willing victim to the growing November winds and cold, letting draughts slide in under the cracks in the windows and cooling the night air to an abominably low temperature. At least the sex kept you warm.

How many times had they done this over the past two months? Jounouchi had lost count, although it couldn't be much more than a couple of dozen. He had grown accustomed to Seto's body, his scent, had grown almost comfortable with the feeling of his thin body beneath him. But this, fucking under the sadistic eye and mocking comments of Seto's foster father, this never got any easier.

"I..." Jounouchi stuttered, shame almost overwhelming him every time he had to say this. "I can't hold on much longer..."

He knew it amused the elder Kaiba. He had to say it, had to alert him of his coming orgasm or else he – or Seto – would be beaten. Gozaburo got up and Jounouchi felt two hands on his shoulders, holding him in a cruel, powerful grip. He tried to ignore them and concentrate on Seto beneath him, surrounding him; the feeling of his soft skin against Jounouchi's, his shallow breaths, his insides that tightened around him with a throbbing warmth...

But a low voice spoke in his ear. "Not yet, Katsuya. Hold it."

Jounouchi groaned despite himself in frustration, his body seething with pleasure as he got closer to the edge. He forced himself to stop moving and try to steady his breathing, seeing Seto look up at him with exasperated disappointment. It seemed like, no matter what the situation, Jounouchi was never up to Seto's standards.

"I want you to pull out," Gozaburo's voice continued, "and then you're going to hurt him. You're not to stop until-"

Jounouchi began to shake his head violently, fingers curling protectively around Seto's wrists. "No, no..."

"Yes, yes," said Gozaburo with amused condescension. "You can hurt him in any way you like, but you're not to stop until he begs you – and I mean _begs_, Katsuya – for you to fuck him again." Beneath them both Seto laughed. It was as though he didn't take either of them seriously. Trembling within Gozaburo's grasp Jounouchi pulled back gently, freeing himself from Seto and making the boy moan involuntarily. Whether it was a moan of pain, pleasure, or frustration Jounouchi didn't know. Gozaburo smiled at the noise from his son. "See, Jounouchi? You won't have to hurt him much, he's already desperate for it. Beat him, if you like. You can- Oh, damn it..."

A phone rang from inside his suit jacket pocket. Jounouchi sighed in relief as the man drew away, taking the call, whatever it was, and leaving Jounouchi to stare down uncomfortably at Seto, naked beneath him. He shivered more now he wasn't moving, as did Seto, and wanted to pull one of the sheets to cover them both. But that was another thing Gozaburo had forbidden. They had to stay on display.

"Right, I'm going," said Gozaburo abruptly, barely glancing at the two boys naked in the bed. "Some nonsense about an explosion outside. Probably just the chemistry department getting carried away again." He opened the door, sparing Seto and Jounouchi a smirk before he closed it behind him. "You two can relax if you like."

And then he was gone.

Jounouchi tried to breathe a sigh of relief but his body remained unbearably tense, the moments without stimulation having not helped him relax but rather heightened his unwanted arousal.

Seto smirked up at him. "Don't want to stop, Jounouchi?"

Jounouchi rolled his eyes but he still didn't pull away. He could feel Seto's tight entrance around the tip of his erection, almost welcoming, but he didn't push forwards. He swallowed and gave Seto a frustrated, resentful look. "Do you always have to make fun of me? This isn't easy, you know."

His smile briefly flickered. "Yes, I know." He looked at him contemplatively for a moment then the smile returned; softer, but more genuine. "It's alright." He slid his hips forwards on the bed, pushing Jounouchi against his entrance. Jounouchi grimaced, trying to resist the fire and the gentle teasing eyes looking up at him, but as Seto tightened his legs around Jounouchi's waist and pulled him back inside he gave up the fight.

He now found his situation reversed, trying to move slowly when all he wanted was to let loose his tense muscles and lose himself in the surrounding heat. He felt Seto try to pull away from the grip on his wrists and Jounouchi let go, but one furious look from Seto and he hesitantly returned his hands to holding down Seto's wrists. Seto gave him again that dreamy smile and strained comfortably against the grip, not trying very hard to get away.

"Jounouchi..." he murmured, that dry amusement lurking behind his distant smile. "_Harder_..."

* * *

"I have some news."

Jounouchi looked up from his book as Seto entered the room after his classes, escorted by one of his tutors. The man paused behind Seto for a moment, surveying the bedroom, eyes resting on Jounouchi. Jounouchi recognised him from the other times he let him back into the room after classes. He never spoke to either of them, only standing mute and dark in the doorway for a moment before he disappeared back into the further recesses of the school. But Jounouchi didn't at all like the way he would rest his hand on Seto's neck when they returned from class, or occasionally kiss his cheek. Seto didn't seem to notice.

After a pointed look from Seto the man turned to leave, giving Jounouchi one unreadable, peculiar look before the door closed.

"News?"

"Yes," said Seto, looking oddly severe in his high buttoned black uniform. There was something unsettling about his impeccably formal attire now Jounouchi had seen him naked so many times. It almost felt as though he was overcompensating. He came to stand by the bed on which Jounouchi was lying, folding his arms and surveying him. "It's about Yamamoto. He's been taken into hospital."

"What?" Jounouchi sat up, interested now, and let the book fall aside. He'd read most of the apartment's stock now but Seto brought him new ones. Most of them he felt he didn't really understand, old dusty novels by long dead authors he barely knew, but it was one of the only ways to pass the time and so he read. Occasionally Seto would bring him a comic that had been confiscated from one of the other pupils, but that was rare.

"Yes. He was... well, catatonic. No one had seen him in a few days and then they found him curled under his desk, completely unresponsive."

"Like in a coma?"

"Hn. Sort of." Seto's frown deepened. "And there's something else."

He paused, considering something. Impatient, Jounouchi tutted loudly. "Well? Come on, this is the first bit of news of the outside world I've had in weeks."

Seto smiled. "Funny you should call the rest of the school the 'outside world'. But I can sympathise with the sentiment." He took a breath. "It's that friend of yours, Bakura. He's missing."

"_Missing?_" exclaimed Jounouchi, sitting upright. "For how long? What happened?"

"I don't know," said Seto slowly. "I would estimate that he disappeared around the same time Yamamoto ended up under his desk." Jounouchi's eyes widened and Seto continued, turning to the window to look out into the distance. "Additionally, that explosion a few days ago wasn't caused by the chemistry department. In fact, nobody knows what caused it. They found a large hole blown through the outer wall and a narrow gap melted through the mesh of the inner fence." He smirked. "Not that I'm implying any connection between those incidents."

Jounouchi exhaled slowly and leaned back on his heels, thinking hard. There was no way Bakura could have brought the ring with him; they had spent far too many hours trying and failing to think of ways to smuggle the puzzle into the school to know that it wasn't possible to get it past the school's security. Of course, getting rid of the ring for any length of time had never worked out very well for them.

"Is Yuugi okay?" said Jounouchi hopefully. Seto avoided his eyes and shrugged a single shoulder. Jounouchi looked up at him imploringly. "Seto, can you please just tell him-"

"No," said Seto immediately. "You know I can't."

Jounouchi sighed exasperatedly. "Come on, man, just get a note to him or something telling him I'm okay. For all he knows I'm dead and now he's... he's all alone..." Jounouchi clenched his teeth, trying to will away anger and frustration. There was nothing he could do. There was _never_ anything he could do, just sit here in this choking red room and stare down at the endless grey fields below, impotent and alone. He had never felt so _useless_...

Seto gave him a long, hard look, then glanced away and nodded curtly. "Fine. I'll try and get a note to him. I can't promise anything, though. My father's become even more paranoid since last time."

_Last time_... Last time Jounouchi had fallen into restless sleep to the sound of Seto being beaten with the crop in the study, as punishment for trying to talk with Yuugi. He awoke to an unpleasant dampness soaking through his clothes. When he had managed to fumble the bedside lamp on he gasped aloud at the sight of Seto sleeping, or perhaps unconscious, next to him, a dark stain around him dyeing the bedsheets a deeper shade of red. The smell of blood still lingered in the air when you slept.

Seto sighed and seemed to finally relax, beginning to unbutton his jacket. Jounouchi watched him disinterestedly, used to seeing him in various states of undress by now. Seto met his eyes, watching Jounouchi watch him undress. His lips twitched in a small smirk. "Bored, Jounouchi?"

"I'm always bored," he answered.

"So am I."

Jounouchi began to feel self conscious as Seto draped his jacket over a chair and removed his shoes, beginning to unbutton his perfectly ironed white shirt. He tried not to feel embarrassed as Seto slipped the shirt off his pale shoulders and began to unbutton his trousers, eyes fixed on Jounouchi with that strange, amused smile. Jounouchi knew that look. He sighed uncomfortably as Seto climbed onto the bed beside him, resting his head on the sheets and smiling up at him with enigmatic amusement.

"Stop looking at me like that," said Jounouchi, half irritated and half returning the smile. "I'm not _that_ bored."

"Of course not, bonkotsu," Seto said patronisingly. "But you will be."

Seto had first made this suggestion a week or so after they had first slept together. They had been lying on the bed, Seto reading and Jounouchi daydreaming, when Jounouchi became aware of Seto staring not at his book but at him, face set hard and unreadable as always.

"You spend a lot of time staring at nothing," Seto had said, more curious than admonishing.

Jounouchi had shrugged. "Well, there's not a lot to do here. There's no way I'm reading any more of _those_ things," at which he had indicated the heavy hardback in Seto's lap, "and I don't get how they don't bore you to death."

"I get bored, Jounouchi," Seto had said. It almost made him wary, that businesslike tone and that calculating gaze. "But there aren't many preferable alternatives to reading."

"I never see you do anything _but _read."

"You see me do lots of things," Seto near whispered.

Jounouchi dropped his eyes. "I just meant-"

"I know what you meant. And _I _meant exactly what I said," interrupted Seto in that same strange, dangerous whisper. "I do what I can to take my mind off things, so I don't understand why you insist on being lost in your own thoughts."

Jounouchi's thoughts were never introspective, never reflecting on the things that happened in this room after the sun went down. He thought of his friends. He imagined picnics in the sunshine, Anzu chastising Honda for making some idiotic comment and Yuugi nervously and good-naturedly attempting to separate them. He pictured Shizuka and his mother. He thought about stupid little moments they'd shared, like him and Honda staying up the entire night adlibbing old foreign films they didn't understand, or Anzu trying and failing for a whole afternoon to teach Yuugi DDR. He _never_ thought about what happened with Gozaburo. There was a large black shape over those memories on which he kept his back turned. The moment he stopped picturing their faces the black shape began to eat at him, started to claw its way around its skull and try to pull itself in front of his eyes. Losing himself in dreams _was_ how he took his mind off things.

He told Seto this, and Seto had replied with a smug smile. "There are more efficient ways, I can assure you."

And then he was lowering his head and pulling at the zip on Jounouchi's trousers, sliding over to his side of the bed and winding his fingers between the zip's now open teeth.

Jounouchi had grabbed his wrist and stared at him in wide-eyed shock. "The fuck, Kaiba?"

Seto's face remained blank. "I want to forget for a while." He stopped moving but he didn't pull away. "Don't you?"

It hadn't been difficult to shake his head, to tell Seto that he couldn't do that, that it just felt weird and uncomfortable and, besides, wouldn't that only make the memories more vivid?

Seto had just smiled; that strange, superior smile, as though he knew things that Jounouchi would never comprehend.

But weeks of being forced to fuck Seto, to sleep next to him, to let him suck Jounouchi off while Gozaburo watched, to wake up with Seto's arm around him, to spend so much of his time submersed in his scent, his skin, his _everything _made Jounouchi's resolve weaken.

About a week ago he had been lying on the bed, eyes shut, trying in vain to sleep the late afternoon away, when he felt a light bite on his thigh. His eyes flew open and he saw Seto lying there, looking up at him with that same smile.

Jounouchi let him give him a blowjob. The sick, exhausted fear and impotent anger all seemed to melt away as he lay back and closed his eyes, losing himself in the warmth and soothing pleasure. But in the wake of his orgasm, brief but achingly intense, there flooded in a deep self-loathing and awful shame. When he looked down and saw Seto smiling up at him, his throat contracting beneath the skin as he swallowed, the sickness had returned so violently Jounouchi thought he would vomit right there.

Seto had followed him into the bathroom where he was splashing water onto his face and avoiding his own reflection's eyes.

"See?" Seto had said, arrogant as he had ever been. "We both knew you'd give in eventually. You'd don't have that kind of self control."

Jounouchi had yelled and lunged at Seto, pinning him against the bathroom wall and holding him there, glaring daggers into those cold blue eyes. Seto's strong hands had closed on his own and his expression seemed to soften. Seto had guided Jounouchi's hands away from his throat, and then he had let Jounouchi hold him awkwardly as he buried his face in Seto's shoulder and tried to stop hating himself.

They had done nothing else sexual since, apart from what they were forced to do every other night under Gozaburo's watch, during which the boundaries between what they _had_ to do and what they _could_ do became so fluid. Where did obligation end and the convenience of satisfying those primal drives begin? To block out everything but the dry, empty lust was the only way to make it easier, and so it gradually took Jounouchi more and more discipline every time to say no to Seto's propositions. His friends' faces seemed to fade a little more every night and the claws of that black shape got that little bit more tenacious. Each time that Seto made these advances the promise of blissful oblivion they carried became more and more attractive. To just _forget_, to feel something good and warm for once...

And so here they were again, Jounouchi looking down at Seto's confident, mysterious smile, tempting him into forgetting it all for a short while. He had made it feel so good, made Jounouchi so intensely feel something other than dread and shame for the minutes he spent with Seto's hands and mouth touching him. But the feeling wouldn't last. Afterwards Seto would be cold and mocking, and Jounouchi would feel that pit open up inside him again. He didn't want this. He wanted to laugh, joke with his friends, play a card game, _anything_, but Seto didn't find his jokes funny and would complain he was too easy an opponent. Sex seemed to be the only thing he could provide that didn't bore Seto further.

And he wanted so badly to say yes... He wanted it to all go away, just for a few moments...

"I'm sorry, I can't," Jounouchi said finally, after a long silence. Immediately Seto drew away from him, sliding off the bed, standing, acting as though nothing had happened.

"Don't apologise, Jounouchi," said Seto tersely, pulling on a thin silk robe. "You're not denying me anything that I want."

"Okay," said Jounouchi unsteadily, eyes trained on Seto as he took the book he'd been reading from the bedside table and went to sit in his father's usual chair, crossing his bare legs smartly and opening the book without even glancing in Jounouchi's direction. Jounouchi sighed and they lapsed into silence, the only sounds in the room that of his own body and Seto turning the pages. The sounds of the other students, wherever they were in the school, were completely absent. They were too high up, too far away to hear any sign that other life existed.

Jounouchi wanted to hit something. He had a lot of dreams now about breaking down walls, or crashing through into open fields, dreams which sometimes continued into flight and freedom over endless grass, and in which sometimes black pits of mud would open beneath his feet and suck him down into something cold and wet in which hands groped at him. Sometimes he'd wake up. Sometimes this part of the dream would go on for hours.

Jounouchi groaned and fell back on the bed, rubbing his eyes. "How did any of this happen? Why am I even _here?_"

"Hn. Scholarships."

Seto looked back to his book in disgust but Jounouchi sat up, suddenly remembering something he hadn't thought about in a long time.

"Hey, Seto, why _did _Yuugi, Bakura, and I get scholarships? We know we didn't get the grades so why the hell were we given them?"

Seto glanced up from his book. "Because they – the teachers – knew you would all accept. You were failing anyway, Yuugi wouldn't turn down a good education, and if what I hear is true then Bakura doesn't even have a family to go back to."

"But that doesn't explain why we were given them in the first place," Jounouchi pressed. "It can't have been out of charity."

Seto's eyes widened slightly. "Didn't you know? Oh, Jounouchi..." He looked vaguely sick. "I thought you knew," he said quietly. "My father heads a committee of teachers, including Yamamoto among others, that each year chooses a small number of local students, those who'll cooperate, or who won't be missed, not on their intellectual ability but rather..." He sneered in disgust. "But rather their... personal appeal."

Jounouchi felt an icy nausea seep through him. "You are not fucking serious," he breathed. "We got our scholarships because... what, some pervert here thought we'd be good fucks?"

Seto smiled but his voice remained hollow. "I've spent years here. I know what they like."

"So that's what happens here? That's the point of this place? A country club for the powerful and criminally insane to get their rocks off and induct their kids into their own sick world?"

Seto met his eyes coldly. "I trust I provide adequate proof for that to require no answer."

Jounouchi blinked hard, as if trying to clear away what he'd learned. "So Yamamoto wanted Bakura, that's obvious, and I guess he got bored with him and set his sights on me, huh? And then when I was out of the picture he had to go back to him? Oh God, Bakura..." He blanched. "And Yuugi? Who the hell would choose _Yuugi _for something like that?" Seto remained silent, staring at Jounouchi and looking just as ill as Jounouchi felt. Jounouchi pushed himself off the bed and went to the chair in which Seto was sat, grabbing him by the lapels of the silk robe. "Seto, _tell me!_"

He gently but quite firmly pulled Jounouchi's hands away from his shoulders and forced himself to meet his eyes. "I believe it was one of the arts tutors," he said emptily. "Taguchi. He likes them young and interesting. He..." That flat smile returned. "He used to say that I had the most remarkable eyes."

"He could be with Yuugi _right now!_" shouted Jounouchi, leaping up. "You have to do something!"

"Like what?" Seto turned away, unable to quite meet Jounouchi's blazing eyes. "I couldn't even save you." His voice dropped so that Jounouchi could barely hear it. "If I was too weak to save an idiot like you then Yuugi stands no chance."

Jounouchi punched a wall. His knuckles had little cuts on them from this bad habit. "_Fuck_ this place, fuck this whole, god damn place." He collapsed back onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. "It makes me want to kill myself."

"Don't say that," Seto said sharply. Jounouchi dropped his hands and met his frozen gaze. "You're stronger than that, Jounouchi. You're going to get out of here come Christmas and then we can help Yuugi and the others."

"Others?"

Seto couldn't stop himself wincing. "Yes. Usually about six of you are chosen, from different schools so it's less obvious. It's unusual for them to pick three from the same school." He lowered his eyes slightly. "I suppose Yamamoto must have _really_ wanted you and Bakura."

"Holy _shit_. Holy shit. How can they keep this a secret? This is supposed to be the best school in the country, how could they keep this covered up?"

"Precisely _because_ this is the best school, Jounouchi. Probably ninety percent of the students here come from families who probably wouldn't even care if they don't already know what goes on here. This is where the elite go; not the smartest or the best, simply the richest who want to stay inside that little privileged circle of the cruel and powerful. Don't forget," he shut his eyes for a moment, "that my father runs the place. And you know what he's like."

"Wow," muttered Jounouchi. "I mean, I knew I didn't get in because of my grades but I had hoped that... I thought there might be some _good_ reason for it, you know?" He breathed in deeply and then out, feeling the icy November air fill his lungs. "How am I supposed to get through each day, knowing that Yuugi could be..." He couldn't say it.

"Don't think about it. Concentrate on the future and what you'll do when you get out. Don't think about the present. That's been my technique my entire life. Just don't think about it."

_Not thinking... _That black shape arched and twisted itself, throwing the once so bright images of his friends into deep shadow. He could remember horrid sharp little snatches of the nights when Gozaburo was here: the taste of Seto's blood, finding fresh, cruel bruises on Seto's inner thighs as he gently pulled them apart himself, Seto once – just once – crying out for his father to stop.

Jounouchi drew his arms about himself and pulled his legs to his chest, breathing out very slowly. What would his friends think of him if they knew? Yuugi would cry, as he always cried for others and not himself. Honda probably wouldn't be able to meet his eyes. Anzu would try to comfort him but not know what to say. And Shizuka? What would she think of her big brother now?

Would they look at him with pity, or disgust?

Something inside his skull seemed to itch, something black and quivering, rubbing itself against the inside of his head. Jounouchi could swear he could hear someone laughing...

"Jounouchi?"

Seto was looking up at him with genuine concern in his eyes, which somehow made his expression even harder. Jounouchi blinked once sluggishly before he answered, not meeting Seto's eyes. "I'm fine," he muttered. "I'm fine."

* * *

Every other night or so Jounouchi would play this game with himself: which was worse?

Was it kneeling behind Seto and fucking him without ever looking him in the eye, his fingers digging sharply into Seto's hips, as Gozaburo sat beside them and chastised Jounouchi for not dong _this_ or _that _properly and goaded his son with perverse encouragements? Or was it lying helpless and silent as he listened to Seto pleasure his own foster father, to the elder's almost affectionate insults and Seto's uncharacteristic, exaggerated moaning?

Right now, Jounouchi decided it was the latter. He had given up trying to press his hands over his ears and drown out the noise. Sometimes he didn't even bother to turn away or close his eyes. He would simply lie there, useless and cold inside and occasionally cast tired eyes over the two naked bodies writhing beside him. Sometimes Gozaburo would drag Jounouchi into it, to make him try and humiliate his son in whatever way appealed to him that night, but usually Jounouchi would just lie there.

"Hey, Katsuya... Katsuya..." Jounouchi felt a hand thump him hard in the back and he turned his head, trying to look away from what Seto was doing a few feet away. Gozaburo was slurring his words slightly, one hand holding a glass filled too high with what Jounouchi guessed was whisky. He was never fully undressed for these sessions, always wearing at least a robe. Sometimes Jounouchi would be allowed to keep his shirt on. Seto didn't even bother asking if he could stay semi-clothed. If his father was there he slept naked without comment. "Come and watch, Katsuya," Gozaburo murmured, one hand playing with Seto's hair. "Watch Seto be pleased by a real man."

Seto didn't appear to have even heard. Deep reluctance weighing down every bone in his body, making his muscles feel like they were moving through something viscous, Jounouchi turned around to sit beside the elder Kaiba and watch, dull eyed, as Seto performed the same service he'd done for Jounouchi countless times before.

Jounouchi tried not to watch, tried not to really see what was happening, but he couldn't stop himself taking in the revolting scene of Seto, naked and sweating, moving his head quickly and seemingly enthusiastically around the man's erection, moaning from the back of his throat as he took it all the way in. It didn't seem right that Seto should be able to do that; that the proud, superior boy who had chided and insulted Jounouchi for so long could so easily surrender himself to his father's desires like this and yet accomplish it so well. He seemed so convincingly to enjoy it, letting out that deep satisfied groan when he took it in all the way, before retracting his mouth and licking his lips once before resuming the task. Gozaburo didn't force him, hardly even touched him save to occasionally stroke his hair, but he didn't need to; Seto did fine on his own.

But it was strange, Jounouchi thought, how much more relaxed Seto seemed with his father than him. At first he thought this was just because he was more used to the elder man, but then he realised with a vague, dizzy disgust that the relaxation was only a result of just how much Seto wasn't _there_. He moved well and did as he was instructed, made the appropriate noises and said the things he was told to say, but everything about him was hollow. It was as though he had abandoned his body to the man he called father and gone elsewhere until the sex was over. _Here. Take it. I don't want it._

"Katsuya..." Gozaburo murmured, dark eyes glittering in the darkness as they fixed on Jounouchi. "Get behind him. Remind him where his place is."

Jounouchi closed his eyes but his limbs were moving him into position before he could even think to stop himself. Each time it was a little easier, took a little less effort to fight the urge to resist. He wished he could block it out the way Seto could...

_Although..._

Jounouchi took one last look at Seto's glazed expression before deciding that no matter how awful he felt right now he wouldn't have traded places with Seto for anything. Except... No, perhaps he would do it for Seto. For his sake.

Seto moved his legs accommodatingly so Jounouchi could kneel behind him, blithely sliding his legs apart wider to expose himself, never once breaking off from the task he was so diligently performing for his foster father. Jounouchi placed one hand gently on Seto's naked backside, sliding his shaking fingertips over the cold skin, and pulled down his own boxers with the other. As usual there was lubricant on the bedside table, along with various other sexual paraphernalia that had accumulated over the past weeks: condoms he was forbidden to use, some now bloody handcuffs, an old leather collar Gozaburo sometimes made Seto wear. Why tidy it away? It would only get taken out again and abandoned by Gozaburo. If Seto couldn't be bothered to tidy it then who could?

Too tired to think about what he was doing, Jounouchi automatically applied some of the lubricant to his hand and slid two fingers into the boy before him. Seto had taught him how to do this: how many fingers to use and when, how deep to slide them inside, how to move them in just the right way to make it feel good. He had given cold and efficient instructions, irritated that Jounouchi had refused any practical rehearsal. Jounouchi watched his fingers disappear inside Seto with a vague, detached discomfort. He was getting used to suppressing the urge to run.

He sighed and leaned forwards, reluctantly curling the firm fingers of his other hand around Seto's hips to hold him steady, trying to get himself inside. It was useless; he was completely soft. He leaned back and continued to slide the fingers of one hand in and out, feeling Seto contract himself around the sensation and move his hips into it, and with his other hand he tried to stimulate himself.

"For fuck's sake, Katsuya, can't you get it up?" Gozaburo's harsh voice cut across Jounouchi's discomfort and he gritted his teeth, trying to dispel the nausea that was threatening to well up inside him. Gozaburo laughed when he didn't answer. "You're like a little boy, Katsuya, aren't you? You're pathetic."

Jounouchi ignored the insults and leaned forwards again, one hand guiding his very weak erection and one with splayed fingers stretching Seto. He shut his eyes and let the grotesque sounds Seto was making for his father's benefit overwhelm his senses. He tried to quiet his hammering heartbeat and the dizziness, picturing Seto making those sounds for him, pretending that Gozaburo wasn't even here and that Seto's feigned sounds of pleasure and satisfaction were entirely genuine and elicited by Jounouchi. It helped a little.

But not enough. He tried to enter Seto again but once more he was unable to press inside even a little way, his growing frustration and self-hatred only weakening his already tenuous arousal. "I just can't, I'm sorry," he muttered, the cold sweat of Seto's back making his palm stick to his skin.

"Christ. So who do I punish for your impotence? You? Or Seto?" He looked down at his son in mock curiosity. "Seto, what do you think?"

Jounouchi ground his teeth together, hoping that the sound reverberating through his skull would drown out Seto's reply, but it had little effect.

"I like it when you punish me," came Seto's voice, only it sounded nothing like Seto.

Again came Gozaburo's laugh. Jounouchi felt as though he was going to be sick; no, he _was _going to be sick.

"Can I please be excused?" he said in a quiet, subdued voice.

"Useless little boy," sneered Gozaburo, but Jounouchi took that as a cue to leave and climbed off Seto, the nausea that had been threatening him for weeks finally swelling up into his throat, and made swiftly for the bathroom.

Seto raised his head from his father's flesh, his mouth closing in a hard line as he watched the door close, staring after it with a strange disorientation.

"What?" said his father before him, his voice light and teasing. "Not enjoying it any more?"

It took Seto a long time to look back at Gozaburo. When he opened his mouth to speak he had forgotten what he was supposed to say.

* * *

Jounouchi barely had the door shut before he was crouching over the toilet bowl, every quivering inch of his guts spasming and making him retch in painful, irregular pulses. He watched the remnants of a meal he couldn't remember eating hit the clean bowl. It suddenly seemed so trivial to him that he had ever wanted to eat at all. He used to like food, didn't he? Acid coated his mouth as his insides contracted violently again and made him vomit up something Seto had cooked for him, whatever it was.

The nausea hadn't much abated and he stuck two fingers far down his aching throat to try and provoke another attack, but his body seemed too tired to manage much more than a feeble twitch of his stomach.

Jounouchi curled his fingers around the edge of the sink, pulling himself up onto his knees and turning the tap, sticking his mouth and then the rest of his face under it. Why couldn't he stop shaking?

He managed to twist the tap off again and pull the toilet's flush before falling back to the floor, hoping for one of the endless waves of nausea to be strong enough to force him to vomit again and bring with it that brief release and refreshing coolness.

It didn't happen.

The door clicked open, both the soft creak as it opened and the second quiet click as it closed telling Jounouchi who it was. Gozaburo liked to slam doors. He looked up to see Seto standing there, a limp red sheet wrapped around his waist. He stood there for what seemed a long time, not really looking at anything, his eyes occasionally twitching between parts of the bathroom as though he kept forgetting and remembering where he was. Then some ghost resembling Seto seemed to flit back to his face, animating it again with coldness and hostility, but at least he looked recognisably alive once again.

With a low sigh Seto leaned back against the door, folding his arms and staring down at Jounouchi. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Jounouchi felt his stomach contract again with the effort of speaking. "I threw up," he said, a little embarrassed, eyes flicking to the lingering flecks of vomit around the toilet bowl.

Seto nodded once. He remained standing, looking down at Jounouchi's defensively curled body, the sweat on his brow and bare chest, at a fading bruise on his arm from where Gozaburo had grabbed him and wrenched his arm a few days ago.

"Are _you_ alright?" asked Jounouchi in turn, somewhat redundantly. Seto held his eyes but didn't give any concrete sign he'd even heard the question.

"You need to be better at doing what he says," Seto said finally, taking a few steps forward towards the sink and running the tap, cupping his hands beneath the cool water. "If he wants you hard then you need to be able to get it up on command." He raised the water to his lips and swirled it once before spitting into the sink.

"I _can't_, Seto," Jounouchi muttered, his voice strained. "I try, I really do, but it's not like I can get a hard on through sheer will power. Besides, I think he likes feeling more... I guess more like a man than me."

Seto snorted. "Maintaining an erection isn't a sign of strength, bonkotsu." He took a bottle of mouthwash off the shelf. "But if you don't provide him with his entertainment the quicker he'll get bored with you and the more your life is in danger." He again took a mouthful and spat, raising his head staring at his own reflection with hard eyes. "If you really can't do it then use your hand or your mouth. Don't give him a chance to put you off. And don't go hiding in the bathroom like a petulant child."

Jounouchi squeezed his eyes shut and his head fell against the ceramic bowl, the seething nausea beginning to swell and ebb inside him. His body was prickling all over, first hot then cold crashing through him in time with the waves. When he opened his eyes again his vision seemed like it was writhing with worms. He retched again but the sickness only increased.

Seto's voice came to him from very far away, indistinct and unstable as though on a bad reception. He could only be certain of odd words: "...difficult then... enjoy... pretend..." The rest was white noise.

A strong hand gripped his arm, the sensation reaching him in similarly broken waves of awareness. "Hey, Jounouchi." He looked up but Seto's face was in very poor focus, only the blue of his eyes discernible though the throbbing black haze. Seto placed his other hand on his wrist, feeling for his racing, shuddering pulse, then shifted the hand to Jounouchi's chin and held his face up, examining his expression. "You're having a panic attack. It's alright," he said softly, "just take deep breaths and concentrate on my voice." Jounouchi tried to do as he was told but the lights were suddenly far too bright and everywhere at once, bleeding out over his vision as his chest constricted. _It felt like..._ "It may feel like you're drowning, but you're not; there's air and the sickness will pass. Just breathe and let it."

Jounouchi tried to do as Seto instructed, mustering his willpower to hear only Seto's continued soothing words and block out the anxiety, but the more he tried he more frustrated he became and the more the darkness consumed his visions. But Seto's eyes remained bright and blue at the centre of the black tunnel and slowly the blackness subsided and the nausea quietened, leaving him weak and shaking. He clenched his fists and found himself digging his nails into Seto's skin. He didn't know how he had ended up in his arms, pressed up so intimately against his chest and staring up into his face.

He pulled back, feeling embarrassed more than anything, aside from the sick lethargy. "I'll do better, Seto, I promise," he said, ignoring the urge to cry. "I'll... Fuck, I don't even know, but I'll do better."

Seto gave a single, slight nod of affirmation. "Yes, I know you will."

Jounouchi started as Seto suddenly dropped a hand between his legs, massaging him gently but firmly. He tried to flinch away but while the hand relaxed it didn't disappear. "Jounouchi..." Seto said carefully. "He's not done. He only sent me in here to fetch you back. We're not finished."

"Oh God..." Jounouchi murmured, screwing his eyes up again. He sat quite still for one long moment, blacking out the darkness and the cold floor beneath his bare feet and knees and the smell of his vomit and the feeling of Seto's hand. Then he opened his eyes. They were hard and cold. "Okay," he said, voice quite flat. "Okay. Just... keep doing that for a moment. I'll..."

Seto finished the sentence for him, massaging him with soft, agile fingers. "You should focus on the physical act itself, nothing more," he said clearly and softly, somehow able to stir a distant physical excitement in Jounouchi as his fingers moved swiftly and firmly around his loose boxers. "Block everything out but the sensations. It isn't something you _have_ to do, it's something you _are doing_. Forget everything but the feeling."

Jounouchi nodded once then shifted away, pointlessly angry at himself for how easily Seto could make him hard. Perhaps it was merely due to Seto's years of practice, or perhaps... perhaps Jounouchi simply _wanted_ him, with a desire base and insatiable. Maybe he was now conditioned to feel that way. As if it mattered. His body was no longer his own anyway.

The shaking had subsided, leaving Jounouchi cold and weak. But that was alright, he could get past that. _Block out everything. The physical act, the sensations. What the hell had Seto said..._

He stood up, his body fighting to keep him upright and barely winning.

Standing beside Jounouchi, Seto brushed his fingers against Jounouchi's own, not really by accident, but Jounouchi didn't take them. He stepped around to Jounouchi's front, peering into his face. Jounouchi met his eyes, watching him the way a dog watches the car that hit it start to reverse back again...

Seto couldn't stop himself before he found himself kissing him, light and brief, but Jounouchi didn't respond. Seto stared at, rather than into, those dark brown eyes and then pressed his lips forwards again, sliding his tongue forwards and meeting no resistance, only the taste of acid. He drew back.

"What are you doing?" Jounouchi's voice was flat and low, almost accusatory.

Seto looked away. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"It's fine," Jounouchi said flatly. "Here." He took Seto's hand roughly and placed it between his own legs, stepping forwards so they pressed together. Seto didn't move. "Come on, it's just foreplay. We're about to have sex, aren't we? Might as well get warmed up."

The empty look in his eyes made Seto feel angry more than anything. What gave him the right to give up like this, to renege on his promises? Seto slowly retracted his hand and folded his arms almost protectively. "No. We're not doing this; you don't want this."

Jounouchi pulled a sarcastic, almost disgusted face. "We're about to go in there and fuck each other in front of your foster father. What does it matter if we have a little fun beforehand?" His disgust intensified. "What does it matter if it makes us hate ourselves?"

Seto wanted there to be an answer to that question. What _did_ it matter? They would continue to be forced into these grotesque exhibitions for his father's entertainment regardless of whether or not they continued them in their own time, so why resist it? Did a little more self-loathing really make a difference in the long run? And besides, the sex was _good_. Jounouchi smelled good, he tasted good, and the look on his face when he came stirred something deep and warm inside Seto. Could it really be so awful to surrender?

Seto's expression remained hard. "Do you really hate being with me?"

Jounouchi's expression slipped slightly, a glimpse of uncertainty surfacing. "Being with you feels like losing. Giving up. Letting _him_ win."

_Him... _Seto glanced warily at the door. They had already kept Gozaburo waiting far longer than was wise.

He composed his thoughts quickly. "Jounouchi, do not ever let the things he makes us do affect what we do of our own volition."

"How can I _not?_ The only reason we do it is to forget about him."

"It's not the only reason," Seto said coldly, feeling ever so slightly hurt despite himself.

"So what are the other reasons? So you can feel power over me?" Jounouchi paused, whether out of hesitancy or for effect Seto didn't know. "Is that why you like sucking me off so much?"

Something vile and cold cut through Seto. "No," he managed in a harsh whisper. He'd never seen Jounouchi look at him with such hatred and disgust, but his own gaze remained hard. Somehow, these few seconds were infinitely more difficult than the entire evening with his foster father had been and would continue to be. He was inches away from Jounouchi's face. "Jounouchi." His voice was strong, confident, and that uncertainty again returned to Jounouchi's expression. "You told me to stop any mind games. You made me a promise to assist in ending my foster father's life. So why don't you stop being so pathetic and honour your responsibilities to your own dignity and myself?"

For a moment Jounouchi held his glare, but then his stony expression suddenly collapsed, buckling beneath the realisation and shame. Little splinters of indifference broke off and revealed the fear beneath, the fraying edges of his strength and still undefeated hope. Something desperate and tender lurked in his voice when he murmured, "Seto..."

And then Seto was holding him, and Jounouchi was holding Seto, and Jounouchi was trying not to cry and Seto could feel himself trembling slightly. Seto's embrace was warm and strong, gripping Jounouchi's shoulder and the back of his neck so hard it almost hurt, but what little pain there was felt somehow soothing in its clarity. It did nothing to ease Jounouchi's fear and disgust, teeming through him like vines, but it planted something warm beside them. It made it a little easier to breathe.

"I'm sorry Seto, I'm so sorry," he sobbed, burying his face against Seto's naked skin. "I'm just so tired and scared and I don't think I can go back out there and keep doing these things to you, I really don't think I can..."

"I'll be with you the whole time, Jounouchi," Seto whispered into his ear, not even thinking not to as he kissed Jounouchi's neck between words. Salt and sweat coated his lips and he pressed out his tongue to taste him better, Seto's entire body shuddering with alien sensations. He forced himself to break away and step back, for the first time feeling not so sure of everything that was about to happen. He wound his fingers through Jounouchi's own around and guided their joined hands back to the door handle. "We still have a month to get through. Then we can honour our pact."

Jounouchi tightly squeezed the fingers wrapped around his own. His face stayed strong despite his tears. "I guess we're in this together, huh?" His smile slipped. "But, I suppose that's kind of the problem, isn't it?"

For the briefest of moments Seto gave him a sad smile. Then he flicked the bathroom lights off, filling the apartment in grey darkness and obscuring Jounouchi's tear stained face and Seto's smile, if it was even still there. Together they pushed open the door. It swung back slowly with a faint creak, revealing once again the bedroom beyond, smothered in darkness.

Except for the dying light of a cigar burning low. Gozaburo sat in the bed, his glass refilled and the cigar to his lips, staring at them with a cool amused sadism. "Well? Ready to try again, Katsuya?"

But he still couldn't do it. And Gozaburo twisted Seto's hand behind his back until Jounouchi could get it up. And Seto tried not to cry out but did and still Jounouchi couldn't. And so he used his hand, and Gozaburo told him _rougher_, and Seto was trembling as Jounouchi tried to stop his nails tearing Seto's insides.

And this went on for hours and Jounouchi couldn't remember if it was even still night any more, even though it was clearly dark outside.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, and thank you very much to my anonymous reviewers.**

**Real life is exceptionally busy at the moment so the next chapter may take me a while to write. I'll post updates in my profile and blog if it looks like it'll take longer than three weeks, but hopefully it won't.**


	8. This Mess We're In

**I'm sorry this is a bit late. My uni workload is insane at the moment.**

* * *

The water ran clear first, then pink, then clear again as the blood that had not yet dried was washed into the sink. Jounouchi turned his hands over, the nails tipped with little half moons of dried brown blood, looking as though he'd been clawing in the dirt. He began to pick at them and watched the grit of Seto's blood slowly swirl down the black hole of the drain. The blood was buried so deep and it was taking so long to clean the nails that Jounouchi soon let his hand drop, eyes drifting to his reflection and then away again, over the silver taps, the silver rimmed drain, the hole down which the blood had flowed. He dipped his face to splash it with water and wash the sweat from his eyes.

"_You've lost weight."_

"_I have?"_

"_Mm."_

_They lie together naked with the sheets pulled over their heads, a hot dark little world, and Seto reaches over to touch the stark ridges of Jounouchi's ribs. Jounouchi shifts away._

"_Don't think you're one to talk, Seto."_

_He's like a little dead thing, long and thin, and so stretched and pale. He gives Jounouchi a dark smile._

"_No. But you're not much better off than me."_

_Perhaps he's right. Jounouchi avoids the sight of his own skin. They're both lit with violet light, sinking through the purple sheet. He looks at Seto instead, at the scars and his sex, and then at his lips, which say softly, "It was so hard simply letting you see me, letting you know what I am. What I let happen."_

The bathroom floor is cold, the sink is white, the lights are cruel. The memory is lost in these concrete facts. Jounouchi can hear the bed shifting and creaking in the next room. How long can he remain here? Another thirty seconds? Perhaps that would be pushing it.

The glass of the mirror is cool and good against his forehead, and when he opens his eyes he sees from this angle a semi circle of red marks on his stomach and he smiles despite himself. Little teeth marks. Seto does like biting. They're lucky Gozaburo hasn't noticed them. God forbid his son stray from the path of submissive whore he's laid out for him.

"Come on, Katsuya," comes a rough voice from the bedroom. _Speak of the fucking devil. _"This is our last night together. Come and make it special."

Turning the tap off Jounouchi lingers at the sink, stretching out the delay although his precious seconds are dwindling. The last few water drops cascade down the drain and he watches them, along with his seconds, and thinks how strange it is that this _is _the last night. Tomorrow the school would break for Christmas. Tomorrow it would all stop and the exhausted coils of tight, constrained anger that creaked within him could finally be let loose on that man, the man Seto calls father.

Not that he knows any of the details of exactly what Seto has planned.

"I've got it perfectly thought out, Jounouchi," Seto had said, "and it's best that you don't know more than you need to." The more he persisted in trying to extract an answer, something concrete from Seto, the more Seto seemed convinced that it was safer if Jounouchi remained in the dark. And so all he could do was wait. Wait out the long days and the awful nights with Gozaburo.

Nights like this one.

Jounouchi forced his feet over the bathroom tiles and again opened the door. He stared impassively at the familiar scene as he shut it behind him: Seto lying limp on the bed, his foster father bent over him and kissing him deeply, almost passionately. Seto's naked body was flushed in patches of red, his eyes shut, and Jounouchi looked away (out of – what? Politeness?) as he saw Seto's lips moving to meet those of his foster father. Gozaburo ignored Jounouchi until he came to kneel on the bed, at which point the elder Kaiba broke away to meet Jounouchi's gaze, the cruelty in his eyes now exhaustingly familiar. What did he want him to do now? It didn't matter. Fuck his son? Whatever. Being with Seto was strangely easy, almost comforting in how warm and familiar he felt and smelled, the one good thing Jounouchi had left in this place.

"I think Seto is sad to see you go," Gozaburo crooned, running his knuckles softly over his son's cheek.

"It's just for the holidays," Jounouchi said, carefully hiding any emotion in his voice and glancing down at Seto's eyes. They were staring up at him, something dark within them.

Jounouchi didn't trust Gozaburo's expression when he said, "Of course, Katsuya. Of course." His hand crawled up to Seto's hair, leisurely winding his fingers into the locks, making both of the boys quite aware of what he was going to do and revelling in the fact that neither of them would do anything to stop him.

Seto's breath came in a sharp hiss as he was yanked from the bed by his hair, eyes squeezing shut instinctively, but he didn't struggle as his father shoved him over to Jounouchi's side of the bed. He rolled over, turning so he could look up, his head resting in the crook of Jounouchi's slightly parted knees. His gaze moved lazily down Jounouchi's naked chest, to his underwear, and lingered there before flicking back up to Jounouchi's face and holding his eyes with his own stare of unreadable blue.

"Alright, Katsuya," Gozaburo said, "Hopefully you'll be able to manage this. Just as a little going away present, you know, so Seto has something to remember you by."

Jounouchi could have sworn Seto smiled at him, but if he did it was gone within the blink of an eye.

He listened disinterestedly to Gozaburo's instructions, trying to process each step one at a time. If he tried to give those individual steps some unifying context he wouldn't be able to do it, he knew. It was too sickening. But that was the point, wasn't it? It was supposed to humiliate Seto and make him hate Jounouchi, blame him for everything that happened. And yet as Gozaburo finished relaying his instructions Seto still held Jounouchi's gaze, black amusement lurking in his eyes.

Jounouchi knew that by this point Gozaburo's mind games barely worked on Seto, if at all, and he tried to take comfort in that as he pulled off his underwear and began to touch himself, as ordered. For a moment something that was almost a frown graced Seto's face, but it was soon wiped away with unfathomable blank. And yet his body was still flushed, his breathing still shallow, although Jounouchi didn't know if Seto's arousal was a result of what they'd been doing earlier, or from his father's hand rubbing his thigh, or the sight of Jounouchi masturbating before him.

The thought of what would come next intruded violently on Jounouchi's mind and he almost lost it, fighting hard to push it of his mind and trying to concentrate on his own arousal, weirdly heightened by the strange way Seto was watching him. Around the dull, slowly rising heat in his lower abdomen his whole body crept with an insectlike, sick discomfort, but for once he didn't want this to end, wanted to prologue the degrading exposure, because he knew what he had to do next, knew he didn't have a choice...

Jounouchi heard Gozaburo laugh quietly and darkly as Jounouchi forced his own body into an uncomfortable orgasm, catching his ejaculate as instructed in a cupped hand. He sat shaking, staring down at Seto before him with his blank expression and burning eyes, and tried to keep forcing his thoughts into isolated fragments.

"Get on with it, Katsuya. Or do you like drawing this out?"

He separated the moments into singular actions, his body prickling with dreadful disgust as he felt suddenly hyperaware of his every movement. His hand was shaking badly; the nails were still stuck with blood. Seto's blazing eyes were so awful in his cool expression. The veins on the back of Jounouchi's were thick and pulsing. His wet fingertips trembled. He just couldn't look away from Seto's violent eyes, which twitched closed as Jounouchi's fingers ran over them, trailing his hand over Seto's face, smearing the semen across his cheeks and lips with his palm.

Seto's eyes opened again. They looked savage, murderous, but the rest of his face remained coolly blank.

Gozaburo didn't even seem to notice the fire in his son's eyes, laughing as Jounouchi fell away, his whole body quivering violently. "Do you see, Seto? Do you see how much he cares about you?" Gozaburo laughed again, slapping Jounouchi almost playfully around the head. "Some fucking friend you have in him, hm? What selflessness. You two have really bonded." Neither boy spoke. They stared at one another in intense silence, smouldering fury meeting desperate disgust. "Right, I'm going to shower," said Gozaburo, rising. "I'm sure you two will be fine, right? Such intimate sharing of bodily fluids shouldn't matter between such close friends, right?"

He gave them pause to answer, but predictably none came.

Before the bathroom door was even closed Jounouchi had collapsed atop Seto, hands hovering and frozen above his face as though too frightened to touch him. "Seto, Seto..." was all he could say, looking over the expression of furious hatred beneath him. Without really knowing what he was doing he pressed their faces together, kissing him apologetically, then kissing the rest of his face, lapping out his tongue to try and clean him off. Seto didn't react, save to close his eyes and so let Jounouchi lick over his eyelids. This too seemed to have no context; all that mattered to Jounouchi was to fix the thing he'd done. His thoughts appeared as in a hall of mirrors: the thought of what he was doing, the thought that he should feel revolted but didn't, and still again the thought that this consciousness didn't change that all he felt was cold, in an endless overlap. He didn't even realise that he was murmuring again and again how sorry he was, not until he felt the vile flavour dissipate as Seto's tongue slipped between his own lips, their mouths humming with Jounouchi's muffled apologies and a low, deep sound from Seto's throat.

Seto carefully broke the strange kiss to speak. "Jounouchi," he said quietly, and when he eased away Jounouchi saw that the fire had gone from his eyes.

"Please don't hate me," said Jounouchi, so pathetically.

Seto smiled despite himself. "I don't hate you. It wasn't your fault."

"But you looked so angry..."

"I wasn't angry at you." Seto's jaw clenched. "He doesn't have the right to do this to you."

"Or you," Jounouchi added. Seto only frowned. "You can't seriously tell me that you feel nothing when he does shit like that to you?"

"He's done much worse to me, Jounouchi," Seto murmured. "Besides, I don't feel nothing." He hesitated. "Not when it's with you."

"But..." Jounouchi swallowed and dropped his tone, his voice cracking. "Seto, that was really fucked up."

"Hn." He pulled one of the sheets over himself, looking away from Jounouchi and tilting his head back to stare out of the balcony window, a distant look on his face.

"Seto," said Jounouchi cautiously in that same broken voice, reaching a hand out to faintly ghost his fingertips over Seto's hair. "Please tell me you didn't enjoy that..."

For a long moment Seto remained silent. Then he said, "I'm trying to think, Jounouchi."

Jounouchi fell silent. The sound of the shower reminded him again exactly why they were here and the purpose of this exercise, and as he looked down again at Seto's guarded expression he realised he didn't care, he didn't care at all. Whatever petty, selfish disgust he might harbour for Seto's strange and unsettling sexuality seemed so trivial that he was almost angry with himself for any judgement he might have once passed. They were beyond that now, so far beyond.

He lay down next to him, drawing him into his arms as he had done unthinkingly a hundred times before, and rested his head in the crook of Seto's neck. He could smell the unpleasant lingering odour of his ejaculate, but he ignored it.

Seto suddenly gave a harsh, quiet chuckle. "Don't I repulse you, Jounouchi?"

Jounouchi smirked despite himself. "You're really fucking weird, Seto, you know that?"

No reply, save for his muscles tightening uncomfortably in Jounouchi's grip.

"But you're pretty magnificent," Jounouchi murmured, almost as an afterthought, against Seto's ear.

It was strange when Seto kissed him. Their kisses were accidents, side effects, rarely intentional couplings. Seto had done it occasionally of his own accord and Jounouchi didn't really _mind, _since they were so brief and cold; casual, half considered, carrying all the intimacy of thanking someone for passing the salt. He would kiss his foster father like that, not really noticing what he was doing. Jounouchi almost found it a little amusing, that was how much this tower had warped his sense of humour.

This kiss was different from all that. It was hot and desperate, the fragile body in his grasp undulating against him, whatever emotion he was trying to convey impossible to fathom. Gratitude, apology, desire? But still he kissed him, and Jounouchi kissed him back, because Seto felt wonderfully good and soft when he was like this, when he actually seemed to appreciate Jounouchi's company.

Seto drew back.

"Thanks."

The word was dead of emotion, rather anti climatic, but he returned the confused smile Jounouchi gave him.

"You're still weird," Jounouchi said, trying to break the tension, but Seto only closed his eyes, still smiling, and lay his head back against Jounouchi, sliding back into that hot, tight embrace.

They didn't have time to move apart before the bathroom door opened.

"The fuck are you doing?"

Jounouchi felt Seto slip away from him, over to the other side of the bed, and Jounouchi didn't turn to look to watch whatever Gozaburo did that made Seto's voice break in a strangled cry.

_Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, _he repeated desperately under his breath. _Tomorrow, tomorrow_...

* * *

They didn't meet one another's eyes as they got dressed for the second time that morning. Outside was blurred bright grey, distorted by thick sheets of ice clinging to the windows, and the two naked figures were lit with cold pale light.

Jounouchi was pulling on his crumpled uniform as quickly as possible, trying to escape from the impossible cold, unable to help himself shooting sidelong glances at Seto, who stood comfortably naked as he prepared his clothes. His chest was marked with a new series of wicked scars, which were smoothly covered up as he pulled on his shirt and began to artfully button it. Were the cuts and bruises worse than usual, or was Jounouchi just paying more attention to Seto's body? He looked down at Seto's naked legs, a cluster of angry burns decorating his inner thighs. _It's definitely worse..._

"Jounouchi, I don't mind you looking at me," Seto said suddenly, not glancing up, "but either do it or don't. Stop pretending you're not looking when you are."

"Sorry," muttered Jounouchi, embarrassed, still not quite able to look at the wounds without feeling self-conscious. "It's just... Some of them look really bad."

Seto spared the marks left by his father's lighter the briefest of glances before reaching for his underwear. "I suppose," he said, as though it didn't particularly trouble him. "They'll fade."

"Yeah," said Jounouchi, uncertainly. He slowed in dragging on his jacket, distracted by the sight of Seto slipping his legs almost exhibitionistically into his black trousers. It was difficult not to watch. Every action was so calculated, so rehearsed, and it still made Jounouchi's guts twitch with disgust when he thought of why and for whom he acted this way. But it worked. That easy, approachable sexuality that infused Seto's movements had countless times dissuaded his father from further violence. At least, it used to work. But these days...

Well, the black eye was fading, that was something. Seto hadn't said anything, but Jounouchi could tell from the dark way he looked at his reflection that he was anxious for it to disappear before the end of term. It hadn't gone completely, but it was now down to a pale smudge, easily concealed with make up. It was one of the few things he had seen Seto visibly troubled about: preventing his little brother from seeing any of the marks his father left on him.

A painful compassion throbbed inside Jounouchi and he yanked his jacket on, stepping over to Seto who had moved to stare into the small wall mirror and was arranging his pressed shirt collar obsessively.

"Here," Jounouchi said softly, handing Seto his own uniform jacket and then moving his hands to smooth out non-existent creases on Seto's collar as he pulled the jacket on. He allowed Jounouchi to do up the buttons and arrange the collar, staring at him with those cold, impassive eyes. "You look fine," Jounouchi said, smiling as he arranged the high collar over the layers of fingerprint bruises that covered Seto's neck. "Really smart."

"Think anyone will notice?" Seto said, voice tinged with dark humour. Jounouchi didn't reply. "You should have let me iron your jacket. You look abominable."

Jounouchi snorted. He'd been denied his own clothes for the past three months he had been here, usually wearing old shirts of Seto's and washing his own uniform occasionally in the bath. It did look rather worse for wear. "Yeah, well, I don't like looking all anal and repressed like you do," he said casually, realising he wasn't really straightening Seto's collar any more, just running his fingers over the small amount of skin that showed, rubbing the tips against the warm, soft hair at the back of his neck.

He dropped his hands, smiling a little awkwardly.

"So," said Seto suddenly, staring at Jounouchi with a challenge fierce enough that it seemed like he might be over compensating. "Did you like it?"

Jounouchi felt an immediate hot blush go through him and he was about to turn away, but two warm hands at his own neck stopped him. Seto maintained his firm gaze as he straightened Jounouchi's own collar – which really was in need of some arranging – and awaited an answer.

"Yeah," said Jounouchi, awkward and embarrassed, but it felt good to say it. Admitting it out loud made it feel less like a dirty taboo, an act on the level of what happened when Gozaburo was here. "Yeah, I liked it. It felt good."

An electricity had sparked in the atmosphere, the excitement of freedom, of Christmas, and perhaps it was this that had made them give in this morning to that easy and uncomplicated adolescent lust and fuck on the floor instead of attending the Christmas breakfast. It was the precursor to the end of term formal event for the students' families, after which they would all, finally, be allowed to leave. Seto would be reunited with Mokuba, and Jounouchi would finally get to breathe fresh air again.

Jounouchi couldn't shake the thought that they had only done it of their own will like this because soon they would no longer have the excuse. When they returned to the outside world this endless intimacy would evaporate. The naked heat and shifting bodies that had become a gentle comfort would be absorbed into the previous formality of their acquaintanceship. Even if Jounouchi tried to push their relationship a little further, if he – god forbid – tried to call themselves _friends_ he knew Seto would shoot him down. Because Seto was ashamed of what had happened between them, as was Jounouchi, and whatever it was they had would seem so twisted and dirty when freed of these crimson prison confines that neither of them would want to admit to it.

But that had ceased to matter in the short, hot moments of spontaneous sex. It was personal and defiant, and rough and uncomfortable, and Jounouchi felt the cold bite at him that little bit sharper when that odd, dreamy look came into Seto's eyes and it seemed like he wasn't really seeing him. But he had held Jounouchi's eyes as he came and Jounouchi, flexing around Seto's erection, wished he could have felt him inside him just a few more times. He had felt comforted, soothed by the strange, overwhelming sensation of Seto filling him, which had hurt less than he'd thought, and the whole thing had been so calm, so intimate, that he almost, so very almost, forgot all about the months of pain, and Gozaburo, and how Seto still didn't seem to be entirely _there_ when they fucked.

But it was definitely Seto who was looking back at him now, unable or unwilling to quite conceal a small smile as he smoothed the folds in Jounouchi's deeply creased shirt. His eyes twitched downwards, to Jounouchi's lips, but then he was moving away to a small drawer and pulling out a tube of concealer to apply to his bruise.

Jounouchi sighed, trying to dissipate an excitement that Seto's gentle touch on his neck had elicited. He ran a hand through his hair which, even by his standards, was in bad need of a trim. He cast about the apartment for something he might have forgotten, but no, there was nothing. Just the clothes on his back. He still didn't quite dare believe that he could leave, which was partly why he hadn't tried the door yet. He was afraid it might not open.

"Is your sister coming?" Seto said abruptly, peering into the mirror and combing his hair to what Jounouchi thought was an unreasonable level of neatness.

"Nah, she'll be busy," Jounouchi said hastily. As much as he ached to see Shizuka he felt a complete fraud letting her see him in this place, and it wasn't as though he could contact her any way. He didn't belong here. No one belonged here. He picked up one of Gozaburo's lighters and began to fidget with it agitatedly, then remembered the burns on Seto's legs and quickly replaced it. "So," he said impulsively, "does Mokuba not know anything about what Gozaburo does to you?"

Seto glanced around at him, expression withdrawn. "He's seen some of the bruises." He looked back to the mirror. "He doesn't know much. He knows nothing about the sex." Again he looked over at Jounouchi. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you-"

"Yeah, yeah," Jounouchi cut in, "I'm not that much of an idiot. I won't say anything." He considered briefly before saying anything else, but decided anything was better than silence. "Do you think he'd want to know?"

"Irrelevant," Seto said immediately. "_I_ don't want him to know. Perhaps that's very selfish of me." He paused and regarded his reflection, spotless now. He ensured a scar on his forehead was sufficiently covered by his hair and then turned around, finally giving Jounouchi his full attention. "It was very difficult simply letting you see what I am, and I don't even care what you think. You have a younger sibling, you know what it's like." His gaze clouded slightly. "The way they see you is how you want to be, and you _can_ be, just for the short moments you see yourself in their eyes." And as soon as the soft expression had come it was gone and he was all cold business again, eyes still touched with something resembling tenderness. "Well, you know what I mean."

Jounouchi just smiled at him, unable to quite form a response to that.

He was distracted from needing to come up with a reply when an expression of recollection crossed Seto's face. "Oh, yes..." He put a hand in his pocket and extracted something small and silver, the cold light glancing off it in bursts of white. "This is for you."

"Is this...?" murmured Jounouchi, taking a familiar looking badge.

"It's my old prefect badge. I don't need it since I was given this." He indicated the familiar badge of a slightly different design on his jacket, marking him as one of the few VIP students. "Wear it today. No one will try to bother you if they think you're a prefect."

"Yeah, sure," Jounouchi said sarcastically, fixing the badge to his jacket. "I'm betting the prefects are all from the families rich enough to buy their way into power, right?"

Seto smiled flatly. "Correct. It'll keep you safe." For a moment the atmosphere dropped into something cold and unpleasant, then Seto's flat expression faded into that vague warmth again. He caught Jounouchi's hand in his own for a brief moment. "Come on. Let's go outside."

* * *

Air. Sweet, cold, beautiful air.

Jounouchi inhaled and exhaled so deeply that he became light headed, drinking in the wonderful oxygen and the sight of the vast, open field before them, around which a few students were chasing one another or smaller children, apparently younger siblings. Parents clustered in the entrance hall, some talking with teachers but most fawning over their children. Everything that made the school into its usual hell had been swept away for this brief, end of term send off. The halls were warm and inviting, the field glistening with frost, and it was difficult to reconcile this image of warmth and festivity with the reality that lurked just beneath the luxury and trimmings.

"It feels..." Jounouchi breathed, barely able to form words. "It feels so good to breathe fresh air again."

Beside him Seto said nothing, looking about him almost anxiously. No sign of Mokuba yet.

He started when Jounouchi suddenly caught his hand, unthinkingly winding their fingers together as he stared about the vast green expanse in glee. Seto jerked his hand away and Jounouchi turned to look at him in surprise.

"We're in public, Jounouchi," he muttered, looking away.

"Oh. Right, yeah," said Jounouchi, the joy slipping from his face somewhat.

Seto felt an inexplicable twinge of guilt and shook himself. "You should go and look for your friends," he said, glancing about them for any sign of his brother.

Jounouchi looked at him blankly. "But I still have absolutely no idea what we're going to do about this plan of yours."

Seto had assured him that he would give him the requisite information on the last day of term. And now that day had come, and still he said nothing.

Seto's face remained carefully expressionless. "You still want to do this?"

"Well, _duh_," Jounouchi said. "You think I'd back out now?"

Seto glanced away. "Perhaps."

"You have no faith in me at all, do you?"

The most fleeting expression of hurt crossed Seto's face. "It's not that. I just thought..."

He had no answer. Jounouchi snorted.

"Seto, I've stuck with you this far. I'm not gonna turn back now."

Something uncharacteristically warm touched Seto's eyes, but it was gone immediately. "Jounouchi-" he started, his voice soft, almost affectionate.

"_Nii-sama!_"

The shriek made Jounouchi's ears throb with sudden pain and he barely had time to turn around to see a blur of black hair hurl itself at Seto, who had dropped to his knees with open arms to clutch the boy to his chest.

"Mokuba..." he murmured, burying his face in the boy's hair, completely blind to Jounouchi standing beside him or the other students milling about the field. The brothers remained like that for several intense seconds, gripping one another white knuckled and shaking, Mokuba's sobs clearly audible from where Jounouchi was standing.

Mokuba pulled his face back from his brother's chest, his eyes wet with tears but shining with startling brightness. "Nii-sama, I've missed you, I've missed you so much..." He seemed almost incoherent with joy, and Seto didn't even attempt to say anything back, his face touched with a calm, clean serenity as he looked at his younger brother, then closed his eyes as Mokuba threw himself into his brother's embrace once again.

Jounouchi stood awkwardly, completely ignored by both Kaibas, neither of whom seemed interested in very much outside each another for the moment. He turned away and began to walk slowly in a random direction, looking about for any sign of Yuugi. Seto had not been successful in contacting him over the past few months – he had an awful scar along his arm as punishment for trying, though – and so Jounouchi had no idea if Yuugi was still alright.

He wandered over to the ostentatious veranda and stood uncomfortably by a pillar, watching all the happy students reunite with their families. He felt unpleasantly isolated from it all and was disturbed by the sudden urge to retreat to the tower and stay there and wait for Seto to come back. He tried to shake the feeling by concentrating on looking for Yuugi, eyes scanning for that tell tale spiky silhouette.

"Disgusting, isn't it?"

Jounouchi jumped as the dark voice sounded in his ear, turning to see Gozaburo, dressed in one of his finer suits and cigar in hand, standing beside him, staring off into the distance. Jounouchi followed his line of sight to where Seto and Mokuba were still standing together, no longer hugging but still with hands joined, talking as they stared deeply into one another's faces.

"It is?" said Jounouchi stupidly. If there was one person on earth he didn't want to talk to right now it was Gozaburo. Why was the man talking to him anyway? Didn't he have a social function to run?

"When I was a child my brothers never touched each other like that," he said, lip curling. "It's revolting proto-faggotry."

Rebellious anger, freed by the fresh air, pulsed in Jounouchi's stomach, and he smiled coldly. "No wonder you turned out so sexually well adjusted."

For a moment Jounouchi thought, despite the crowds, that Gozaburo was going to hit him. His eyes burned with hatred and violence, as though he wanted nothing more than to strangle Jounouchi to death.

Instead he spat in his face.

Nobody seemed to have noticed and Gozaburo walked quickly away, Jounouchi glaring after him, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He had never wanted so badly to kill another human being. Just a little longer, just a little more waiting, and then-

"Jounouchi!"

He didn't have time to turn before four limbs surrounded him, two soft arms gripping his stomach and two much more violent ones half choking him in a rough hug. The smell of Anzu's perfume and the recognisable feeling of Honda's violent embrace hit him, overwhelming with sudden, painful familiarity. He threw himself into them both, burying his face in the top of Anzu's hair and nearly breaking down into sobs. Some deep, weak part of him had given up on ever seeing his friends again.

"Jounouchi," came Anzu's muffled voice from against his chest. "Respect personal boundaries, much?"

He drew back immediately at the irate tone, suddenly embarrassed in a way that was glorious in his mundanity. He'd hugged a girl too hard. So what? It was such a clean, pure embarrassment in comparison to the dark, dirty months he'd spent in the tower that the social awkwardness almost felt good.

"Sorry, Anzu, sorry," he said quickly, bowing in apology, but he was quickly distracted by the boy standing between his two friends, smiling up at him with relief and a quiet, pained understanding.

Etiquette was again thrown out the door as Yuugi bowled into him, the two of them hugging tightly.

"Are you alright?" Yuugi whispered quickly and urgently into his ear.

This time Jounouchi couldn't stop the tears. "I am so not alright," he said before he could stop himself, voice broken with tears but low enough that the others wouldn't hear. "Are you?"

Yuugi drew back and nodded once, staring up at Jounouchi with bright eyes. He looked fine. Good, even, if a little tired.

"Are you _that_ happy to see us?" Anzu teased at Jounouchi's tears, but the smiles slipped from her and Honda's faces as she saw similar tears on Yuugi's face.

"You two okay?" Honda said, looking between them with raised eyebrows.

"Mm," said Yuugi, looking over Jounouchi with worried, questing eyes. Jounouchi wondered how obvious it was, the weight loss and the bruises; wondered even, madly, if somehow Yuugi could tell just by looking at him what had happened between him and Seto. He felt like it was written over his face.

"Wait, Jounouchi, did you get made _prefect?_" said Anzu incredulously, pointing at the silver badge. Yuugi and Honda both looked where she was pointing, Yuugi's eyebrows twitching up.

"Whoa, no way," said Honda, reaching out and grabbing Jounouchi's jacket to drag the badge closer to his inspecting eyes. Jounouchi batted him away.

"No, it's Seto's."

Honda and Anzu stared.

"Kaiba Seto," said Jounouchi helpfully, receiving twin blank looks in return.

"Since when were you two on first name turns?" asked Honda, but Jounouchi ignored him as Yuugi spoke in a quiet voice.

"Is that where you've been?"

Jounouchi nodded once. "Yeah," he said, equally subdued. "Up in the tower. "

"What are you talking about?" Anzu breathed, voice full of concern.

Jounouchi ignored this too, turning around instinctively to glance over at Seto and Mokuba.

Only they weren't there.

"Oh fuck," Jounouchi exclaimed, looking about him. Foreboding swirled in his stomach. "Where did they go?"

"Who _cares?_" said Honda, perplexed, but Jounouchi was already turning on the spot, searching for where they might have gone. Was he supposed to go meet Seto at his home? Or go home with him? He had no idea, and it was becoming rapidly apparent that Seto might have changed his mind about sharing his plan. Maybe he intended to do it on his own, or maybe...

"It's alright, Jounouchi," Yuugi said softly and reassuringly, putting a hand on his friend's elbow (a pat on the shoulder was out of the question for someone of his height). "They'll be at the lunch for sure."

Jounouchi met Yuugi's eyes, which were wide and understanding, which knew perfectly well that whatever had kept Jounouchi separated from the rest of the school the entire term could not be in any way good, and probably already suspected what sort of thing might have gone on, and as he stared at them he knew he just couldn't do this, he _couldn't_. He couldn't stand here and make jokes with Honda and Anzu and pretend everything was okay. Whatever life he'd had before, difficult though it could be with his father's drinking, and school, and holding down a job, had had such sweet, wonderful bright spots that now, looking into Yuugi's soft, slightly sad eyes, seemed to be part of another universe.

"Are you alright, Jounouchi?" Anzu asked gently, fixing him with probing concern.

Jounouchi forced a grin. "Ah, yeah. I just... I've got to give some stuff back to Kaiba. We shared a class together and he lent me his books and notes."

"How weird of him," remarked Honda.

"Well, he did say he'd kill me if I didn't return them to him," Jounouchi improvised, still looking about them in a search that was quickly becoming futile. "Anyway," he gave up searching and his voice softened despite himself, "he's not such a bad guy."

Honda looked at him sceptically and Anzu's smile seemed a little confused, but Yuugi maintained that same soft, sad smile as though he had already read everything that had happened in Jounouchi's face, impossible though that was.

* * *

The lunch was awful. Jounouchi was accustomed to taking large amounts of alcohol with his meals by now, getting completely wasted on his own or sharing a bottle of foreign booze whose name he couldn't even pronounce with Seto, and it was grating to have to sit through such a long social occasion with nothing to dull the edge. The staff and parents had wine plenty of wine, but the students of course had not been served any. As a result, Jounouchi had to spend the event uncomfortably sober, aware of his body and actions in a way he never had been before. He constantly felt as though people were looking at him, though he knew logically they couldn't be, and answering Honda and Anzu's cheerful questions was increasingly exhausting.

But at least Seto was here.

He sat up at the staff table, of course, next to his father and with Mokuba on his other side. Tall, beautiful, unreadable and quiet, his eyes drifted over the students and parents with elegant boredom. Jounouchi couldn't stop himself staring, though he didn't know why. It felt so odd to be separated from him like this. They'd eaten dinner together nearly every night for over three months, sometimes sitting at the table and sometimes lying intimately on the bed together, plates balanced precariously on the already dirty sheets. Jounouchi hadn't realised quite how intimate they had been until now that they were finally separated.

When Seto caught his eyes Jounouchi's entire body seemed to give a pulse of electricity. Seto's head raised slightly but otherwise he gave no indication that he even recognised Jounouchi and his wandering gaze continued.

Jounouchi tried not to let it bother him. It wasn't as though they could sit here staring at one another for the entire lunch, especially with Gozaburo probably monitoring his son's every movement, but it still stung. The separation was physical, like something had been amputated. It wasn't sexual, not really, he didn't even particularly want to hug Seto or touch him. He just wanted him _here_, like he had been for the past three months, to talk to and enjoy the company of. Simply being in his presence was calming.

"Hello? Hell-_o_? Okay, someone try hitting him."

Jounouchi turned just as Honda thumped him in the back of the head, seeing Anzu repress a giggle.

"You are spacing out so badly today, man," Honda said, and Jounouchi knew it was supposed to be Honda's rough, good natured way of expressing concern, but today it was just pissing him off.

"Yeah, well..." He swallowed, looking about him, casting around for an excuse. Nothing came. "Yeah, well," he repeated by way of finishing the sentence.

"Geez, why are you being such a killjoy?"

"So," said Yuugi, interrupting before Jounouchi's irritation could stir a retort he might regret later. "How's Kaiba doing?"

"He's..." _How do I answer that? _"He's okay."

"Why were you living with him anyw – _ow!"_

Anzu, who seemed to have picked up on Jounouchi's dark tone over the course of the morning, had elbowed Honda in the ribs.

"You're not allowed to do that!" said Honda indignantly. "You're a girl, I'm not allowed to hit you back!"

"Give me your best shot," said Anzu, picking up her fork and wielding it threateningly.

Honda hesitated, looking at the fork, then turned to Jounouchi. "Jounouchi, tell her she's not supposed to hit me!"

Jounouchi stared between the two for a minute, dumbfounded, unable to make sense of any of this. These were his friends, and yet he felt like everything he said to them was a lie, like he was constantly hiding who he was.

And he had to meet Seto. He had to meet Seto because they had an honest-to-god murder pact, and sitting here making jokes as if the past three months hadn't happened was _ridiculous_. He couldn't comprehend _entire fucking situation, _why they were even _here, _what the _fucking point was of all of this..._

He buried his face in his hands.

"Will you guys please just shut up?" His own voice sounded so hoarse he could barely recognise it. He looked up from between his fingers at his friends, who were all staring at him. Of course they were staring at him. Of course. He stood. "I need to go for a walk. Get some air."

"Yeah," said Honda uncertainly. "If you're not feeling well..." He let the sentence trail off.

"Uh huh. Whatever. I..." Jounouchi was saved from ending a sentence to which he had finish by the sight of a small, black-haired boy slipping out of the side door. A quick glance at three empty seats at the staff table confirmed who it was, and judging by the absences Mokuba was presumably accompanied by his elder brother and foster father.

"Jounouchi!" Anzu called after him as he broke into a half-run, making for the same door, heart racing. Something was going on. Something wasn't right. Seto _still _hadn't told him jack, he still had no idea what was supposed to happen...

Seto didn't trust him.

This fact, hated and unbidden, rose up within him and whispered itself into his brain. Whether it was because Seto had probably never trusted anybody, except his brother, or because Gozaburo had successfully achieved what he had spent the past three months trying to do and convinced Seto that Jounouchi would indeed betray him, Jounouchi didn't know.

It didn't matter. Jounouchi broke into a full-fledged run. It didn't fucking _matter _if Seto didn't trust him; they had a deal, a _pact_.

He ran faster, faster, a dreadful certainty worming through him that whatever he had to do, it was too late.

* * *

"You can help Tsutsumi prepare for the party tonight. Everybody who matters will be there so I'd rather he didn't fuck up and hire a stripper or something like he did last time."

The school buildings, bare trees, a cool grey blue sky drifted slowly past the window as the limo pulled casually out along the drive. Seto watched the bright white shapes of the clouds, full, perhaps, of snow, and concentrated on the warm flush of his brother's body heat against his side.

"Are you paying attention?"

Seto looked flatly at his foster father, sitting opposite them in the limo. "Of course, sir. Tsutsumi. The party. Strippers."

He cast about in his mind for the son of Tsutsumi, the vice principal, not quite sure whether or not they'd slept together. He'd slept with Tsutsumi, of course, years ago, but it was so long ago that he didn't really remember the details.

"I don't trust leaving you alone at school," said Gozaburo, voicing the motive Seto had already identified behind his father abruptly leaving his own end of term party in the middle of it in order to supervise his and his brother's safe return to the mansion. "Who knows who'll you'll slut about with?"

Seto's fist clenched and he glanced at his brother, who was staring quietly out of his own window, no doubt trying to the politely ignore the ongoing conversation. Seto shot his father an angry look, who rolled his eyes in reply.

Seto's attention was suddenly caught by a flash of familiar blond, turning despite himself to see Jounouchi skid to a stop behind the limo, apparently knowing that he couldn't catch up as the vehicle pulled into the main stretch of drive and increased its speed.

"For fuck's sake..." Gozaburo muttered, also catching sight of the boy.

"He's quite tenacious, isn't he?" said Seto lightly, turning his head to look through the back window and smiling a soft smile he expected Jounouchi couldn't see.

Mokuba turned to look at Jounouchi once he saw his brother's smile. "Hey!" He mouthed, waving enthusiastically.

Jounouchi remained stationary but raised a hand in acknowledgement. Seto felt his soft expression slip. Maybe Jounouchi _had_ seen his smile.

"What an idiot," Gozaburo muttered, looking out after the boy. Then he turned his attention back to Seto. "I've had it with this pointless social experiment. It's over."

Seto remained silent, staring out after the rapidly shrinking figure in the distance.

"He's a fucking _lowlife, _Seto," Gozaburo pressed, sneering. "You won't see him again." He paused, his disgust clouding every so slightly. "Why would you even want to?"

"Mm," was all Seto said in response, slowly raising his own slender hand in farewell, or possibly greeting, he wasn't so sure. And he could just, just barely, make out Jounouchi's arm waving in response, before he melted into one indiscernible blur. _He'd only get himself killed, _Seto thinks angrily, trying to reassure himself. _He's too weak. This is for the best._

As Jounouchi waves, Seto experiences a feeling he hasn't felt in a very long time, perhaps not since the day he was adopted, which is the horrible sinking dread that he's made a terrible, terrible mistake.

_Come find me, _Seto finds himself thinking desperately, face cool and blank but mad desperation swirling within him. _Just come find me._

* * *

_Jounouchi says nothing for a long time after he's come. He stares out of the window, more embarrassed by this, having Seto's mouth around him, than the few instances of full, consensual sex they've shared._

_Seto slides up to sit beside him, quietly recalling the texture of his cool sweat, the tight muscles of his stomach, and savours the lingering taste._

"_I feel kind of bad," Jounouchi says finally, "that you don't want me to do anything for you."_

_Seto smirks, not turning to look at him. "It doesn't work like that."_

"_What, do you actually get off on doing that?"_

_No answer._

_A thump on his arm. He turns. Jounouchi's grinning._

"_You so have a crush on me."_

_He's teasing, but the words cut through Seto like a long, thin blade, smoothly into the centre of himself._

"_God, I hope not," Seto mutters._

_Another thump. More grinning, not quite so bright this time. "Is that a yes?"_

"_Don't be ridiculous."_

_Still the smile dims. "Hey... I don't mind..."_

"_I do have _standards_, mutt." He can taste his semen on his tongue._

"_Right. Right, whatever." Angry but too tired to argue it he stands, stretching, trousers still undone and exposing himself. "I'm going to shower." He pauses, looking down at the boy on the bed, who isn't looking at him and lies naked and brazen, flushed and erect, but Jounouchi is only looking at his eyes. They are distant and guarded. "You want to join me?"_

_No reply._

_Jounouchi sigh and leaves and heads for the bathroom. After a few seconds of deliberation, Seto follows._

_Under the flecks of water that glance off light like little shards of gold Seto lets his shoulders relax. Jounouchi rubs gently with a sponge at some of the dried blood on his back, and then gentler still with his fingers. Seto's still hard, even moreso, but Jounouchi doesn't mind. It's kind of nice. He would touch him if he could, but Seto hates being touched there. It makes him pale and quiver in the most horrible way, so Jounouchi doesn't touch him like that. He wonders if one day, when they get out of here, Seto might let him touch him._

_The thought startles him a little, though not unpleasantly. He washes Seto's lower back, running a palm over the beautiful wrecked skin there._

"_Seto, will we still hang out, when this is all over?"_

"_Mm." Seto leans his head back slightly and Jounouchi moves a hand to work more steaming hot water into Seto's hair._

"_Is that a yes?"_

_Seto leans into the touch. The water is so beautiful, little gilt splinters falling about them, and Jounouchi can hear even over the white noise of the water drumming down about them that Seto's breathing is hot and shallow. He pushes himself against Jounouchi, his body flushed with more than just the heat of the water._

"_Seto, is that a yes?"_

_It's so warm and good here, their own little world of light and heat. This is theirs, only theirs, forever just the two of them._

"_Seto?"_

* * *

**I intended this chapter to be somewhat more upbeat than the previous chapters. That didn't work out so well.**

**Next chapter will be the last, excluding an epilogue, so I will try to not be too late with it.**


	9. The Point of Disgust

**I'm so sorry for this ridiculous delay. In brief, I had a ludicrous workload over Christmas, then I realised my final chapter was far too rushed an ending and had to write another, which is this one. As a result, this is the penultimate chapter, next will be the final chapter, and then the epilogue.**

* * *

_Dear Jounouchi Katsuya,_

_We regret to inform you that the school board has elected to withdraw your status as student at the Kaiba Boarding School for Boys, effective as of December 23rd. You will no longer be permitted on the premises without possession of an official visitors' pass._

_Should you wish to contest this decision, contact the school board with your letter of re-application._

_With the highest regards,_

_Kaiba Gozaburo_

_Headmaster_

* * *

The afternoon rain formed a warm, enclosing static around Jounouchi's bedroom. It pummelled against the thin glass of his window in a protective cushion of sound, interweaving with the weak strains of his dying radio into a steady, unbroken noise that drowned out the sound of his shallow breathing and the sound of friction and fabric as he rubbed a hand between his legs. His eyes were bloodshot and fervent as he rode the sweetly dry and painful discomfort of sex that his body didn't want.

He stopped himself before he came, letting his body calm and the edge slip away, then began again and tried to prolong the weak, dying excitement. He didn't try to fight it for long, easily giving in and pushing himself into an orgasm that was more tight discomfort than pleasure.

He lay shaking and stinking with sweat, the smell reassuring in its familiarity, staring up at his grimy bedroom ceiling and trying to force his brain to narrow on the sensations and smells rather than settle on any concrete thought. Unbidden rose a soft, smiling image in his mind's eye, Seto's blue eyes bright and warm as they looked into his own.

Jounouchi groaned and reached for a bottle of water, accidentally knocking it to the floor. The light clatter informed him that it was empty. He wet his cracked lips and drew his knees up, one hand still working pathetically between his legs. He had neither showered nor left the apartment since he got back, spending the past week lying in his bedroom and thinking endlessly of his own failure, of Seto, of how he hadn't been able to save him.

_You know, bonkotsu, lying around jerking yourself off over me is a new low, even for you._

Jounouchi's lips twitched in a smile at the imagined voice, low and mocking in his ear, and he started to harden again. He thought of Seto's mouth around him, his hands clutching his hips, the delicious tightness of him, the sensation of his nails raking over his skin.

Jounouchi bit his lip as hard as he could stand, whining low and stretching his hips into his hand, his exhausted body not responding well enough to push him any nearer to another orgasm, weak though they were.

The phone rang.

The image of Seto, naked above him, quickly jolted away. Jounouchi fell back limp against the sheetless futon beneath him, breathing hard and staring over at the ancient phone as it rang with an unpleasant pitch. He considered his now completely lost erection for a moment and then gave up, half crawling across the floor to reach the phone. He nudged it off the hook and then spent about ten seconds trying and failing to position it beside his mouth and ear, his head buzzing with exertion and a persistent lust.

"What?" His voice came in a rasp.

"Jounouchi?"

He swallowed, blinking hard and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Hey Yuugi. What's up?"

"Where were you today? We waited for you for an hour."

Jounouchi ran a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in days-old knots, trying to think of what the hell he was supposed to have done today.

"Jounouchi, you there?"

"Yeah, yeah..." He had arranged something? What? Where? His mind threw up blanks.

_Am I that much of a distraction to you?_

Jounouchi smiled and shut his eyes as Seto's voice floated back to him, warm even as it teased him.

_Come on now, Jounouchi, are you really going to waste your life over me? We both know you're better than that._

"Jounouchi? Can I come round?"

Jounouchi's eyes made a brief sweep of his room. He'd let it fall into far worse disarray than usual, the floor having progressed from merely severely cluttered to an impenetrable sea of laundry and trash. It smelt too, revolting and stale the same way that Seto's chambers had smelt.

"No," he said finally, dragging the phone over to the futon and lying on it. "It's a mess."

He heard Yuugi sigh quietly at the other end of the line. "Alright. Well, will you come over to mine?"

"I can't," Jounouchi said immediately, sliding his toes beneath his blanket and then reaching down to yank it up over his head. "I'm sick."

"Maybe some fresh air would do you good," Yuugi replied, hopeful but shrewd. "Lying around in your room all day everyday can't be good for you."

The room wasn't at fault. Jounouchi was well aware that he had simply traded one prison cell for another, surrounding himself with the same vile odours and painful lust that had dictated his life for the past months, but he couldn't bear to leave it. It kept Seto with him to be like this, to punish himself and force himself to relive the whole thing again and again. He didn't feel so guilty about his failure. He felt a little closer to the one thing he'd lost and, possibly, let get destroyed.

"_Jounouchi?_ Please talk me, _please_."

"I'm here, I'm just... tired."

"If you don't get over to my house tomorrow evening I'm going to come to yours and not leave until you let me in."

"Yuugi, I can't-"

"No. Please don't make any more excuses." Yuugi's tone was sharp, but it softened again immediately, dropping to a pitch of gentle, painful compassion. "I know what goes on in that school, Jounouchi. I know why the spirit of the ring took Bakura away from there, and I know the look you had on your face during the trip home. If you really, truly need to be alone then I won't phone you again for another week. But please know I'm here for you, whatever you need, just to talk or if you want my help. I can't stand knowing that you're in pain."

Jounouchi breathed deeply, eyes drifting over to his black school uniform, hanging creased upon the door, unmoved since he had hung it up the day he got back. It hung with the still strong scent of cigars, scotch, incense, and, beneath all that, the distinct smell of Seto. His chest ached.

"Yeah, okay," he said, swallowing with effort. "I'll come over. Can't promise I'll be much in the way of company though."

"That's fine," said Yuugi, voice bright with relief. "I don't mind. We can just hang out or watch a movie or something."

It sounded so painfully normal. Jounouchi sighed. "Okay. When do you want me; seven?"

"Seven's good. You can stay over if you want."

"Okay. Okay, seven. I'll see you then."

He hung up before Yuugi had time to say goodbye. Sudden tears threatened to overwhelm him, a keening pain wormed through his chest, twisting up his insides. No more mourning his failures. There was nothing he could do, not now. Had there ever been? Had he wasted an opportunity or had it always been futile?

Whatever it was, it didn't matter now. Whatever friendship or weird, twisted affection he and Seto had shared was over now. Jounouchi was back where he belonged, no prestigious graduation, no welcome home from his mother. And Seto was back where he belonged, with...

The radio continued to play, the rain continued to batter Jounouchi's window, and Jounouchi pulled the blanket over his head, curled himself into a tight ball, and wept pointlessly and soundlessly into the filthy sheets.

* * *

The small kitchen was lit pale, sickly green from the single failing bulb which hung low and shadeless in the cramped space. Most surfaces were dirty, the floor in particular thick with grease and remnants of food, filth, and who knew what else, the result of years of twin procrastinatory attitudes to cleaning duties. Yet familiarity and a palpable, homely warmth oozed from behind the grease and stains and steeped the bare, dingy kitchen with a reassuring sense of safety and home.

Jounouchi was not at all grateful to be back here, but he didn't say it. Instead he ate his soup in silence, hunched over the small table and staring blankly into the cheap, watery meal. Before him sat his father, equally silent, but staring at his son in confused irritation. Jounouchi thought to himself that his own grotty apartment wasn't really much dirtier than the Kaibas' chambers, despite how stunned he had been by their impression of luxury. He made a silent wager that his own - admittedly quite revolting - kitchen floor was cleaner than that vast crimson bed in which he had slept these past months, in which he would search through the the great pile of sheets for one a little less stained to sleep upon and cover the blood and semen on the sheet below. He had never considered sleeping on his kitchen floor before but now it didn't seem such a terrible concept.

"What has got into you, boy?" his father said, drinking liberal spoonfuls of the thin soup. "You've barely said two words since you got back."

Jounouchi gave a single slow nod. "Yeah, I know. Sorry, dad."

"You better not be planning on moping around like this for the rest of the holiday," he said with good natured reproach. "I hardly ever see you as it is, spending all your time at that fancy ass school." He stood, picking up his empty bowl and walking to put it in the sink. He went to the fridge to pull out his third beer of the evening before returning to his seat, ruffling Jounouchi's hair on the way. "Buck up, kiddo."

Jounouchi glanced up and smiled weakly, scooping up a spoonful of soup and letting it drip back into the bowl without even raising it to his lips. His appetite was worse than ever, his guts twitching uncomfortably even at the watery soup. It was strange to think that he'd been eating homecooked meals for the last few months, but even digesting those seemed so difficult.

His father sighed in exasperation. "Come on, Katsuya. You can't keep not eating like this. You're skin and bones as it is." He reached over and took Jounouchi's barely touched bowl and took it to the stove, filling it until it overflowed in great drips to the floor, then set it down again before his son. "Eat up. I made this myself, you know. Proper food, proper meals."His eyes slipped from his son's. "Figured you'd be used to a better class of meal at that place. Couldn't see you wanting to live off ramen the whole of winter."

"Dad, it's just food. I don't care what I eat." Jounouchi brought the spoon to his lips three times in quick succession, trying to make a dent in the overflowing bowl as quickly as possible, then threw the spoon back in the bowl. "See? It's great."

"Since when did you start turning down food, eh?"

"I'm just sick," Jounouchi muttered, his stomach already protesting at the meagre meal.

"You've been sick all week, son. Either you get down to a doctor or you hurry up and get better." He took a swig of beer. "Unless there's something else on you're mind that you won't talk to me about, hm?" Jounouchi's silence answered for him and his dad clapped him hard on the shoulder, chuckling with carefree drunkenness. "I get it, I get it. I remember what it was like to be young. What's up? Girl trouble?"

Jounouchi snorted. _Girl trouble _hardly covered it. And yet, in some weird way, it did. Not the disgust and the fear, not the memories of Gozaburo and the endless nights of shameful horror, but it covered Seto. He hadn't given much thought to their now most definitely non-platonic relationship; questioning his sexuality certainly hadn't been at the top of his priorities for the past several months. He thought of Seto with a great rush of warmth and comfort and he enjoyed the sex, confusing though it was, but the state of his orientation... That was something he hadn't even attempted thinking about. It hardly seemed the top of his priorities.

_Yeah. Girl trouble_. Jounouchi resisted a hollow laugh. "Kind of."

"Well, alright!" His father brought the glass bottle down to the table with a very loud _clunk _and clapped his hands together. "You ain't had a proper girlfriend since that blonde with the-" -he made a vulgar mime to indicate ample breasts- "-who screwed with your head all the time." He took another swig. "But that's women for you, eh?"

"Mai was nothing like that," Jounouchi said quietly. "We were never dating. It was..." He tried and failed to find a way to articulate his feelings for Mai that his dad would understand, that whatever they might have had wouldn't have worked and Mai was no more to blame for how it ended than he was, but he couldn't think of anything. His dad didn't think on those levels.

"That's what I mean, boy. Mind games, all of them. So, this new chick. She cute?"

For a brief moment Jounouchi considered telling his dad everything. Breaking down and crying, telling the man who was supposed to protect him from these things in the world what had happened and trusting him to take care of it. Jounouchi didn't even need to glance across the table, to look at the useless drunk who had tried and largely failed to be a father to him, to know that it would be pointless. His dad would likely murder him for fucking another guy; hell knows what he'd think if he knew his son had been essentially raped. Maybe he would blame him for it. Maybe he'd want to take revenge and get himself killed.

Either way, it wasn't something he could explain, and so Jounouchi reconsidered the question and decided that lies of omission weren't really lies at all. _Seto, cute? _Jounouchi smiled despite himself. "Yeah. Like, crazy beautiful."

His dad nodded, grinning widely. "Yeah, I get you. How long you too been dating?"

Jounouchi shook his head. "It's not like that. We're-"

"Oh, come _on_, Katsuya," his dad said loudly, gesturing emphatically. "You gotta stop going with these girls who only mess your head around and never even put out. They're shallow, manipulative, and they get off by fucking _with _you, not fucking you." He drained the bottle. "Just like your mother."

If Jounouchi had been having this conversation with his dad a few months ago he would have agreed with that assessment entirely. Kaiba Seto, shallow? Perhaps. Manipulative? Oh, definitely. And if Jounouchi had been asked to make a guess on what he did to release what Jounouchi would have wrongly assumed to be years of sexual repression, then screwing with people's heads would have been it. It was hard to reconcile that with the Seto he now knew, still the same cold, manipulative asshole but an undeniably good person, one who had tried to save his life and one whom Jounouchi had failed.

Were they 'dating'? No, of course not. Then what were they? Friends? Enemies? Would they ever even see each other again?

It wasn't as though Jounouchi could explain any of _that_ to his dad.

Jounouchi took a breath and went with the quickest answer. "We've already had sex."

His father gave a whoop and clapped his hand on his shoulder. "'Bout damn time! You're, what, eighteen this January? Fuck, if you'd have turned eighteen still a virgin I don't know what I'd do."

Jounouchi forced a smile. He'd done stuff before Seto, at parties with girls, but he'd never gone all the way. He'd never pushed for it, and they'd never offered. There had been Mai, and he thought they might end up sleeping together, but it had never happened and after he started attending the Kaiba Boarding School he'd lost a lot of interest in sex. Sex became less appealing as he watched Bakura get harassed and had teachers like Yamamoto surrounding him, and that was long before he'd got to know Seto and... everything that had happened.

"So," his dad said, again going to the fridge, this time to get two beers and to place one in front of his son, the new man. "Tell me about her. How'd you two meet?"

Jounouchi hesitated, deciding that bending the truth was better than straight lies. "She's the kid of one of the teachers. They teach her privately, away from the rest of the boys."

"One girl in a school of thousands of boys and she goes for you? Nice going, son."

"Not _thousands_ of boys," was all Jounouchi could awkwardly mutter.

"She a good fuck?"

The question caught Jounouchi off guard and his stomach contracted, a dozen images of Seto naked flickering before him: panting, moaning, vacant, seeing someone else when he looked into Jounouchi's eyes, kissing him and smiling.

_This is a fucking stupid conversation._

Jounouchi stood abruptly, lifting his bowl as he did so. "I'm going to Yuugi's," he said suddenly, even though it wasn't even six yet. "I'll wash up."

"Oh," his dad said, clearly offended. "And here I thought we were having a proper father son chat. Who you ashamed of? Your new girl or me?"

Jounouchi burst out laughing. His father watched him, utterly bemused, his son contorted at the waist in inexplicable hilarity, one hand covering his face as his shoulders shook with laughter.

"What has gotten into you, boy?"

"I..." Jounouchi choked back the laughter and took a deep breath, feeling a little sick. "No, I'm not ashamed of either of you." Shame didn't exist any more. It was abstract, just a concept. The idea that shame meant anything to him any more was ridiculous, the idea that he could be ashamed of Seto even more so. He breathed steadily and turned to face his father. "Sorry, dad. I've just been cooped up inside way too long."

His father nodded slowly and uncertainly. "You go see your friend. Get out of the house for a bit. It'll do you good."

Jounouchi tried to flash his best, most cheerful and reassuring smile, but his mouth seemed to falter and he couldn't quite muster it. Instead he shrugged, the evening ahead suddenly stretching long and uninviting. "Sure thing, dad."

* * *

The low evening sun teased faint orange spikes of light across the floor of Yuugi's bedroom, backlighting Jounouchi's hair with a bright gold and half blinding Yuugi every time he inadvertently moved in the way of one of the glares.

"You seem different," Yuugi said quietly.

Sitting across from him, one leg drawn to his chest upon which his chin rested, Jounouchi nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess."

Yuugi forced an awkward grin. "You're still Jounouchi, right?"

Two dark, lost eyes met his own, then slid away.

"Yeah," Jounouchi repeated. "I guess."

Yuugi exhaled slowly, caught between confusion and compassion for the boy who had been his best friend these past few years. He sat crumpled and close, his limbs drawn tightly in their awkward position, contributing little to their stilted conversation and staring mostly at the floor rather than his friend. He explained nothing, betrayed nothing of where he had been or what had happened over the past few months.

There were so many things Yuugi wanted to tell him, bad things, about what he feared had happened to Bakura and how he hadn't been able to contact him since he disappeared, about the rumours that circulated about the Kaibas, about how scared and alone he'd felt, friendless and terrified that he would never see those he cared about again. So many things, each difficult and painful to carry with him, and yet he found himself unable to articulate a single one of them. Jounouchi barely seemed aware that he was even there, let alone as though he could respond to the conversation in a meaningful manner.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" Yuugi said, levelly and directly, not expecting an affirmative.

"I don't think I can," Jounouchi murmured. He ran a hand over his face, looking exhausted in a way that Yuugi had never seen him look despite Jounouchi's years of late nights and sleeping in class. "I don't know what you'd think of me."

Yuugi stayed silent for a moment, mouth set firm and eyes wide and bright. "You're my friend, Jounouchi," he said. "Whatever happens I will always be your friend. I wouldn't give that up for anything in the world. You know that. I love you more than anything and if there's anything, _anything _I can do to help you then I want to know."

When he spoke, Jounouchi didn't meet Yuugi's eyes. He stared hard at the floor, as if expecting some answer to appear there, and spoke flat and low.

"I feel like I've betrayed you. You made me like myself. When we became friends for the first time in my life I felt like I was, you know, an actual worthwhile human being. Waking up in the morning didn't feel like waking up to a stupid, pointless existence, it felt like I had a _life_, something worth living." He swallowed and screwed his eyes up. "Man, the way you look at people, it's like you see things that no one else does. It's like you see everything good in someone, and it's not that you don't see the bad, you just know that the good stuff is more important. And now..." He covered his closed eyes with his hands, further blocking out any light. "I wake up and I want to die. I hate myself. Looking in the mirror I don't see someone who deserves to be alive. It's worse than being a piece of shit gang member, only good for beating up people who don't deserve it, because at least then I could _do _something. But now I don't know. I don't know what I'm good for. I don't know how I can be a good person."

He buckled under the light weight of Yuugi throwing his arms around him, clutching him in a painful hug.

"Jounouchi," Yuugi whispered, burying his face in his friend's neck for a moment before pulling back. "Don't say that, don't ever say that. You're one of the best people I know. You can't-"

"You know what goes on at that school," Jounouchi interrupted suddenly, his voice low and almost threatening. The tone was familiar, but not in Jounouchi's mouth. It only took Yuugi a moment to hear the echo of Kaiba's voice in it. "You know why Bakura left. The spirit got him out of there because he wanted to protect his host. Wherever he is now you can bet he's safer than that school. You know what the teachers get away with, and you know that Seto's dad runs the place. What sort of life do you think Seto leads?"

Yuugi stayed silent.

"God..." Jounouchi said, his voice breaking. "The things I had to do to him, Yuugi..."

This time Jounouchi caught his friend in the violent hug, clutching his arms and pulling him as close as he could, breaking down into shameful tears as he buried his face in Yuugi's chest. Yuugi said nothing, holding him in silence, staring over the top of his friend's head at the sinking sun and the dark city below.

* * *

"Aibou."

Yuugi didn't look up. His eyes stayed fixed and hard on Jounouchi's sleeping form, curled on the floor beneath a thick blanket in the warm pooling rays of sunset. He had talked for hours, recounting every detail of the past few months in a strained monotone, and then he had simply lain on the floor and closed his eyes, falling asleep in moments. Yuugi had draped the blanket over him and retreated to his bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin upon them, watching his best friend drowse deeply in an exhausted, comatose sleep.

"Aibou? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Yuugi murmured, not meeting the spirit's eyes.

"No, you're not."

A translucent hand rested upon his shoulder and Yuugi forced himself to look up, meeting the burning eyes of his other self with his own, which were wet with tears.

"I'm _fine_. How could I not be? Nothing's happened to me."

The pharaoh's eyes were set with unshakeable, firm concern, almost a challenge. Yuugi clenched his fists as he tried to outstare him.

"What? _What? _Do you honestly expect me to-" He quickly stopped himself and dropped his voice, shooting Jounouchi's sleeping form a guilty look. "Do you honestly expect me," he continued in a whisper, "to be able to think about anything other than Jounouchi and Kaiba right now?"

"No," he answered levelly, sitting beside Yuugi on the bed and taking one of the boy's clenched fists in his hand. "You're right to hurt for them. I couldn't imagine you not to. But you need to stay strong for their sake and pretending you're not upset when you are is only going to make it more difficult for you to be there for them."

Yuugi wrenched his fist away and buried his face in his hands, trembling as the tears flowed freely. "It's not fair. It's not right. How could something like this happen? To _Jounouchi? _He's the strongest person I know." He took a tremulous breath, looking up to the ceiling to try and slow the tears. "And Kaiba? How could his _father _do that to him? Why would he want to hurt him like that? I can't... I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt either of them that horribly. It doesn't make any _sense_..."

"I know. These things don't."

"Then what I am supposed to do?" Yuugi hissed in his strained whisper. "If Jounouchi couldn't save Kaiba then I certainly can't. We just go on with life pretending that it isn't happening? Is that what we do?"

The violet eyes that met his own were still hard, saddened but hard, filled with regret and dull pain, but still so hard.

"We can fight to put a stop to it, and we will, but we can't undo what's already done. These things happen, aibou. Bad things happen to good people, and it isn't fair, but it happens. It just happens."

"These things do _not. Just. Happen_." Yuugi leaned forwards, face contorted with a rage that rarely surfaced. "It's not an _accident_. It isn't some freak of nature. Someone – _Gozaburo –_ did this because he wanted to hurt them. He _wanted _to cause this much pain." The anger subsided under a great, painful wave of sadness and Yuugi fell back against the wall, not bothering to wipe away the tears that made his cheeks shine wet and golden in the sinking sunlight. "I don't understand," he said helplessly, staring at his other half for answers. "Please, tell me there's some sense to this."

The spirit's eyes fell. "I can't. You know I can't."

"Then tell me how I make this right," Yuugi pleaded, voice cracked all over with pain. "Please, tell me how to fix this."

As the silence wore on and the spirit still didn't meet his eyes, Yuugi closed his own and rested his head again upon his knees. "We'll find a way," he murmured. "We'll find a way to fix this."

A low moan of discomfort came from the huddled form on the floor and Yuugi immediately slipped from the bed, falling beside his friend and clutching his shoulder. "Jounouchi?"

Jounouchi's eyes were still closed, his brow furrowed. His voice was thick with sleep and pain when he spoke. "Seto?"

Yuugi's heart fell through his chest and he shook his head, inexplicable guilt filling him. "No, Jounouchi. It's me."

Jounouchi's eyes slowly cracked open, both a deep bloodshot red. "Yuugi?"

Yuugi smiled as warmly as he could, deeply aware of the tears still covering his face. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Oh." Jounouchi shut his eyes again. "Right. Yeah. I'm back in Domino."

"And you're safe," Yuugi said instinctively, the easiest and most comforting thing that came to mind, but he immediately regretted it even before Jounouchi had formed a sarcastic smirk.

"Yeah, safe. Safe and sound tucked up in beddie bies. Seto must be thrilled."

Despite the disdain and self-hatred dripping in his friend's voice, Yuugi couldn't help but smile at the expression on Jounouchi's face. He very lightly touched the corner of his mouth. "I've never seen you smirk like that. You look like Kaiba."

"Pft." Jounouchi opened his eyes fully, blinking and bloodshot, then pushed himself up into a sitting position. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Not long. Half an hour."

He rubbed the back of his head and yawned widely. "Figures. I've been sleeping so weird. It's..." He faltered, and turned his head away. "It's weird not... Not sleeping with him. I'm so used to..." He sighed exasperatedly and rubbed his head again, fidgety and uncertain. "Sorry, forget it."

"You slept together?" Yuugi asked quietly, unconsciously shooting the spirit an uncertain glance and and getting that same stoic look in return.

"Yeah," mouthed Jounouchi nigh soundlessly. "Yeah, we slept together." He deliberately omitted the other occupant that so often shared their bed. It was much nicer to remember it as just the two of them. "There was only one bed," he explained, wetting his lips nervously, "so we slept in that."

"Must have been awkward," Yuugi said, smiling forcedly, trying to embrace this shift of subject from everything Jounouchi had been explaining before.

"Not really," Jounouchi murmured, picking at threads in the carpet the same way he had teased at Seto's bedsheets, so many months before. "It was nice. Seto's... He's not so bad all the time. He can actually be a nice person when he lets his guard down, which isn't often, sure, but when he does..." He took a very long, deep breath, then let it out slowly. "He was nice to me. I liked that. I liked... You know, despite everything, I liked being with him." He clenched his jaw and inhaled sharply. "We slept together."

"Well, I can see how sharing a bed would be comforting," Yuugi began hesitantly but cut himself off at Jounouchi's exasperated sigh.

"No, Yuugi. I mean we slept together. We fucked each other. And it wasn't part of Gozaburo's sick games, we just fucked each other because we could. Because we were scared, alone, I don't know, but we did. And it was really, really good sometimes." He didn't even realise that he had shut his eyes, blocking out Yuugi and whatever expression he might be wearing. Then he gave a short, hysterical laugh. "I lost my virginity to Kaiba. Sometimes that seems the most insane part of all of this."

He opened his eyes and met Yuugi's determinedly, challenging any mocking response, but he didn't get one. Yuugi was looking at him in shocked confusion, but a warm smile quickly broke through it.

"Oh, wow. Jounouchi, that's... This is good, right?"

"I have no fucking clue," Jounouchi muttered, his words half a sigh of relief. "I don't even know if I want something like that. I think Seto does, but he's so hard to read and he never talks to me about himself. Plus there's no way I could have any kind of relationship with anybody right now. I still can't sleep because..." His voice caught and he remained frozen for a moment, mouth half open in confusion. He turned his head slowly to stare in complete loss at his friend. "God, Yuugi. What am I supposed to do? How do I help him? It's not like I can go back. I've been expelled and I'm pretty sure that's Gozaburo's nice way of saying, 'Come back and I'll kill you.'" He screwed his eyes up. "I'd be dead already if it wasn't for Seto. And it is killing me that I can't help him. I promised him that I would get rid of his dad, that we'd find some way to kill him, and here I am crying on your bedroom floor with absolutely no idea what to do."

Yuugi studied his friend's face. The sun had been completely eaten up by the horizon now and with the light still switched off Jounouchi's face was cast in layers of shadow, his eyes downcast but his face alive with potent anger.

Unsteady but determined, Yuugi drew a long breath. "You want to kill Gozaburo?"

"Yes," Jounouchi said instantly. "I want him gone. I cannot go on with my life knowing that I just sat back and let Seto get hurt like that."

"Then let me help you," Yuugi said quietly. He looked up at the pharaoh, still staring firm and hard who gave him a single, certain nod. When Yuugi looked back at Jounouchi his friend met his eyes with a bright fire. "I know you. You'll just go running off alone and get yourself hurt if I don't offer to help, so I'm offering. Anzu and Honda will feel the same way."

"I can't tell them," Jounouchi said automatically. "Yuugi, please, I can't tell them any of this. I shouldn't have told you if you're going to go risking your life for me."

"They'd all risk their lives for you," Yuugi said, his face set in a soft, accepting smile. "We're your friends. That's what we're here for."

Jounouchi drew in a steadying breath, leaning back and considering. He thought of his friends, just as young as he was and probably no better at dealing with this situation. He couldn't ask them to die for him.

And then he thought of Seto, how he had carefully arranged Seto's collar to cover the bruises his father had left so that his brother wouldn't see, and how Seto, tall and strong and challenging, had looked at him with a soft, bright, grateful smile in his eyes. He thought of weird little things, like how Seto liked having his hair touched though he would never admit it, and how he would smile involuntarily at Jounouchi's dumb jokes and then pretend he hadn't. He thought of how, at night, after his father had climbed off him and fallen asleep, Seto would wordlessly press up against Jounouchi and Jounouchi would sleep close and intertwined with him, neither of them saying anything, Seto silent and warm against him. Seto, who was counting on him, who had no one else.

"Okay," Jounouchi said, heavily but firmly. "Okay. But we can't tell them what happened. Seto wouldn't want them to know. I'm ashamed I even told you."

"Ashamed?" Yuugi frowned, his head tilting in a question. "None of this is your fault. What do you have to be ashamed of?"

"It's not really shame," Jounouchi muttered. "I just... I don't like to think about it. I feel like I've done something awful."

"But you haven't," Yuugi said, his voice filled with a shock so intense that Jounouchi looked up in alarm. "None of this was your fault. How can you even think about blaming yourself?" When Jounouchi didn't answer Yuugi leaned forwards and added, "Do you blame Kaiba for what happened?"

Jounouchi hesitated, staring at his friend, thoughts and feelings running through his head at twice their normal speed.

Then he stood up, looking for the first time that evening filled with some of his old confidence.

"I need to use your phone."

* * *

The phone rang once, twice, three times, and with every subsequent ring Jounouchi felt his anxiety build. Then the line clicked and a soft female voice filled his ear.

"Hello, Kawai residence."

His heart leapt. "Shizuka?"

For a moment there was silence, and then his sister's voice poured out of the telephone in a warm, bubbling rush. "Onichan! Where have you been? Why haven't you called? Mother and I have been so worried!"

Jounouchi collapsed against the wall, giving into a glowing, relieved grin. "I'm sorry, Shizuka. I've had a lot to do this week."

"You should have at least given us one phonecall," Shizuka complained goodnaturedly. "How did your exams go? You did pass, didn't you?"

Those perfectly printed mocking words rose out of Jounouchi's memory, _we regret to inform you_, blah, blah, blah. He had never been a student in the first place, not really. That scholarship wasn't the proof of worth that his mother saw it as, just another disgusting lie to maintain Gozaburo's empire. Everything his mother valued him for, everything that might have brought their family back together, all of it lies.

"It went fine," Jounouchi lied flatly, trying to force brightness into his voice. "I did okay. Not like super great, but okay. Yuugi did really well, so that's great."

"Oh, wonderful," piped Shizuka's cheerful voice. "Mother wants me to invite you to dinner on Christmas, will that be okay?"

"I... I can't, I'm sorry," Jounouchi said abruptly. He couldn't face them, not now, not after all of this and lie to them. The truth would come out sooner or later and he didn't want to have to lie to their faces. He couldn't do that. Besides, maybe he'd get lucky and get himself killed before he saw them again. He almost laughed at that thought. "I've got to retake one of my exams and I need to study really hard for it."

"Oh, I see," Shizuka said, the disappointment resounding in her gentle voice. "No, I understand. School's really important, especially at somewhere as important as your school."

"Yeah," Jounouchi said with a nervous laugh, unable to quite get past the absurdity. "So, what have you been up to? Tell me everything."

He listened to her happy, carefree stories of completely trivial everyday life and drank it all in, absorbing himself in this simple world of soft, easy light. She joked about boys, her friends, complained about school and her homework, and the soft hum of her voice easily lulled Jounouchi into a quiet, warm place in which the plan, Gozaburo, even Seto faded away into the background. For a little while, he could pretend that everything was going to be okay.

"Oh, I have to go," Shizuka suddenly said, the regret evident in her voice. "Mother's calling me for my music lesson. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Jounouchi said, his voice heavy. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Jounouchi continued to cradle the phone to his ear long after she hung up, the click melting into a dull tone that seemed the fill the whole hall. Nothing had ever felt so silent before.

* * *

"So, how bad a plan is it?"

Jounouchi, Yuugi, Honda, and Anzu sat in a circle on Jounouchi's living room floor, pages of lopsided notes and out-of-scale diagrams in the centre, the latter three staring at Jounouchi with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"It's..." began Anzu, frowning. "It's not the worst plan I've ever heard."

"It's still quite bad though," Honda amended. "Like, maybe the second, third worst plan I've heard."

Jounouchi punched his friend in the shoulder. "It is not that bad. I think it's a good plan."

"Good plan or bad it's probably the best we'll get," Yuugi murmured, biting his lip and staring hard at the scrawled notes Jounouchi had made that were sprawled at their feet. "You'll need a good deal of luck to pull it off."

"Hey, I'm a lucky guy," said Jounouchi, grinning. "I've pulled off way more dangerous stunts than this in my time."

"How reassuring," Honda said drily, earning himself another punch.

"Regardless of how good a plan it is," said Anzu, "we've got your back. Anything you need, you tell us."

Jounouchi's grin widened. "Thank you guys. I seriously can't tell you how much this means to me. I don't-" he cut himself off as the sound of the ringing phone in his bedroom cut through the apartment. "Give me a minute."

He went into his room, took the old phone off the hook, and put it to his ear. "Hello, Jounouchi here."

Silence at the other end of the line. Jounouchi sighed exasperatedly.

"Hell-o? Hello? Okay, hanging up now."

"It's me."

Jounouchi felt his entire body shiver with warmth and terror at the same time. He wet his lips and glanced around nervously, somehow certain that someone was eavesdropping. When he spoke back it was almost at a whisper. "Seto?"

"Hey, you."

The voice was cracked, worn, much weaker than Jounouchi had ever heard it before. Seto was never so casual either.

"Seto? Are you alright?"

He had the phone pressed so tightly against his ear that he could hear Seto's every breath.

"I'm... I'm quite tired. I shouldn't be calling you. Someone will try to trace this call and find out who I was talking to." He took a strange, hollow breath that resonated deeply down the line. "I needed... How are you?"

"I'm fine, forget about me," Jounouchi said dismissively, leaning forwards and concentrating every atom of his being on the receiver. "What about you?"

"Jounouchi, I'm trying to scramble this signal but I only have a few seconds. Just talk to me."

Jounouchi became suddenly aware that his eyes were hot, his vision blurring with tears. "I'm fine. I'm good. It's been weird without you. I'm sleeping weird. I wish you were here." He faltered, throat choking with a burning desire just to hold the owner of the voice on the other end of the line. "Seto? Say something, please?"

Another creeping breath. "I have to go. Seconds are nearly up."

"Fuck, Seto..." Jounouchi couldn't stop himself now; he was openly sobbing. "Why did you just leave? I can't fucking sleep without you, I can't stand it."

"Don't come looking for me," Seto replied, his tone suddenly very harsh. "Just don't. I'll kill you if you do, understand?"

"Seto," Jounouchi said brokenly.

"You'll..." Seto's voice came in a broken stutter. "You mean more to me than you will ever know. So don't come for me."

The line went dead.

Jounouchi stared blankly at the gritty, dirty wall opposite him for a moment, listening to the dull tone and taking in the sight of ancient stains and the scuffed spots from where countless shoes had kicked at it over the years. Then he pulled the phone taut on its wire and stared down at the silent speaker, knuckles white and shaking.

"_Fuck you,_" he screamed at the silent plastic. "Fuck _you_, Seto, _fuck you_." He yanked the phone again and it came free from the socket, bringing with it flakes of plaster. He slid down the wall, arms curling around his knees, giving into the sobs again, and swearing to himself again and again that _I will not, I will not break my promise_.

* * *

The ceiling shook as his body did, jerking roughly as he slid back and forth, each collision with the headboard defocusing his vision to a deeper blur. There was no pain, not in the sex, not in the constant nauseous motion of fullness and friction, just in his head, both from the impact of the headboard and the constant swelling ache within. Seto was aware of his breathing coming in shallow pants, what might be hyperventilation, and he was aware of the lights and a high ringing in his ears, but little else. The dark eyes staring into his own were invisible to him; two hands gripped his shoulders without noticeable sensation.

Once the motions stopped his awareness resurfaced, as out of water, and he sank back into his shaking, clammy body with unpleasant familiarity. He could feel wet stickiness between his thighs, though whether it was blood, semen, or something else he didn't care to know.

An open bottle was pressed to his lips and Seto immediately opened his parched mouth to drink deeply, expecting water, but something bitter and burning flowed into his mouth instead and he immediately gagged. The unpleasantly warm liquid spilled over his chest and he smelt alcohol, disturbing his stomach even more.

"Not thirsty? If you insist."

He was aware of his father the way he was aware of the bed beneath him, everything registering on a simple, detached level. The man was always there. Seto didn't remember the last time he woke up alone. Sometimes he woke up blindfolded and there was someone fucking him – not holding or touching him, only the contact of sex – and those were the only times he wasn't sure if his father was there. Probably watching if he wasn't doing it himself.

The clink of metal notified him that something was being unlocked and the gentle pressure on his leg told him that he was being moved into a more accommodating position. He kept his eyes closed, letting himself be manoeuvred, floating in comforting oblivion. When Gozaburo entered him again Seto saw against his eyelids a bright flash of golden hair and deep brown eyes, smiling and uncertain above him, hot inside him and soft against his skin.

_Jounouchi..._

An immediate blow struck him across the face.

"You do _not_ say that name," his father spat, the vehemence prompting Seto to force his eyes open and try to remember where he was.

_I said that aloud?_

Gozaburo grabbed his face, nails digging into his cheeks, and lifted Seto's head off the bed to better shout into his son's face.

"If I hear a single syllable of that brat's name out of your mouth I will cut up your face, Seto," he said, teeth white and snarling above his son's mouth. The violence slipped from his features as easily as it had come and his cruel grip melted into gentle, soothing caresses. "He's gone now, Seto," he crooned, dusting kisses over Seto's absence of expression. "It's just the two of us. Just us. And you're mine." He kissed him deeply, the lips below his own unresponsive and bloody. "You're mine, aren't you?"

From deep within Seto's drifting consciousness a reply wound its way out.

"Yes, I'm yours," he murmured to the ghost of Jounouchi dancing in his mind's eye. "Always yours."

* * *

**The final chapter is nearly finished so hopefully it won't be a very long wait.**


	10. You Have To Be

The security guard's uniform hung poorly about Honda's shoulders, loose in the arms but too tight across the chest. If he didn't hold the gun with the confidence brought by years of practice with a BB-gun his disguise would have failed to fool even the most lax of the school's security guards. Meanwhile, Jounouchi had spent hours ensuring that his school uniform was so thoroughly washed and ironed that it rivalled Seto's in its tightly drawn constriction, the gleaming prefect badge he had been given completing the impression of neatness.

He isn't disguised as Jounouchi-the-student, however; his hair is short and cropped, cropped crudely and dyed a poor, cheap black. It comes off in a gritty smudge on his white shirt collar as he bends to the ground, examining the hastily repaired section of the Kaiba Boarding School outer wall through which Bakura somehow blew a hole. It's piled high with sandbags. Easy to get through, which is why a guard was hired to watch it, a guard who was only too happy for the strange new security guard with the ill fitting uniform to relieve his shift.

So far, luck was on their side.

The sandbags covering the hole in the wall shifted away quickly in Jounouchi's strong grip, but they were piled high and tight and took time to clear.

Honda glanced around restlessly, the gun held ready and armed in his grip, constantly looking back to the way they came. "Can you hurry up?" he hissed. "He could come back any second."

"Honda," said Jounouchi, pausing in his task to glance up at his friend. "If someone relieved you from your shift would you _really _put in overtime to double check that they were a real employee?" He rolled his eyes and returned to the sandbags. "We've got three hours until the next shift change, which is way more than I need to move these, so stop freaking out."

Honda sighed in exasperation, plucking anxiously at the fake ID clipped to his jacket pocket. "Yeah, because this is such a tightly constructed plan. How did I let you talk me into this?"

Again Jounouchi paused in his work, turning his face to Honda as the sun hit it. "Because you know it's the right thing to do." He shrugged and yanked out another sandbag. "Even if you were right about it being _really _stupid."

"Why, just _why_, are you heading a plan that you _know _is terrible?"

The space cleared was now easily big enough for Jounouchi to slip through, and he didn't waste any time pushing himself over the pile of sandbags, through the gap, and out onto the other side. He quickly stood and brushed the worst of the mud off his uniform and turned to look up at the school. Endless windows facing him, a thousand security cameras, armed guards, locked doors, and another fence to get through. _Yep, this is definitely a terrible plan._

"Hey, Jounouchi?"

Jounouchi turned back, seeing Honda's face pressed against the opening.

"Make it quick, man."

"Just... You can still change your mind, alright?" Honda frowned, jaw clenching. "I know you think you don't have a choice, but you _do_, and if you throw your life away over something that was doomed from the start-"

"I ain't changing my mind," Jounouchi immediately retorted, face set hard. _Doomed from the start. _An accurate description in so many ways.

"Yeah, I know," Honda muttered, sighing again. Then he nodded sharply. "Alright. Good luck. Try not to do anything stupider than what you're already planning to do. And _be careful._"

Jounouchi grinned. "Hey, careful's my middle name."

Honda stared back at him. "_No it isn't_, Jounouchi," he said flatly. He ran a hand over his face and sighed for one final time, fixing Jounouchi with the most firm and assured look he could muster. "Seriously. Be careful. And if something goes wrong just get the hell out of there, alright?"

Jounouchi nodded once, then extended a hand through the hole in the wall and took Honda's, clasping it once, before turning away and breaking into a swift jog towards the school's inner fence, never looking back, never stumbling.

As Honda watched Jounouchi go he slipped his cellphone out of his pocket and called Yuugi's number, his eyes never leaving his retreating friend. The phone didn't even have time to ring once.

"Honda? Is Jounouchi alright?" Yuugi's voice was very sure, bright and determined even over the poor connection.

"He's fine. The outer wall was easy to get through. They've repaired the inner fence with barbed wire, though."

"The wirecutters?"

"Yeah, he's got them," Honda replied, watching Jounouchi slip the cutters out of his satchel on queue, beginning to cut through the nasty spiked metal. "Has Anzu called?"

"She's with Mokuba. His school pretty much just let her walk him out of the classroom, didn't suspect a thing. If Jounouchi's half of the plan goes as well as hers then this might actually work."

Honda had to suppress a laugh as Jounouchi apparently became frustrated with the wire and launched himself through the hole he'd created, turning to regard the fence as though it had personally offended him, but apparently uninjured.

"What?" said Yuugi at Honda's laugh.

"Nothing, it's fine." He watched as Jounouchi ran up to a small, unassuming wooden door in the wall of the school, watching the door open and then swallow his friend whole, into the darkness of the school. Honda drew a slow, tense breath. "Yuugi?"

"Yes?"

"This isn't going to work, is it?"

For a moment Yuugi said nothing. Then his quiet, determined voice came through with firm, measured syllables. "I have faith in Jounouchi. He'll be alright. But this plan wasn't designed to work, you know that."

"I know," Honda muttered. "I just don't know if Jounouchi does."

"He knows." Yuugi's voice had become very quiet. "It's not about winning. It's about trying. We'd do the same for him, you know that."

"Yeah, yeah," said Honda. "I just worry what will happen when he – I mean, _if _he doesn't make it."

No sound. Just the wind in the trees, a low whistle, and the very distant sounds of a school alive with the start of a new term.

"Yuugi?"

"He'll be fine," came Yuugi's voice, not so sure any more. "It'll be fine."

* * *

Seto hadn't expected Jounouchi to be in the tower, not really, but his heart still slipped a little when he saw the empty bed and felt the stuffy, silent emptiness wash over him. He hadn't even expected Jounouchi to visit over the holidays, and yet he still resented him a little for not showing up, even though he would have just been turned away by his father's security.

He let slip his bag from his hand by the door and went immediately to the bed, easing himself onto it to take the weight off his ruined ankle. Whatever was wrong with it, it wasn't healing right. Not that he would be allowed to see a doctor. Not that his father cared.

Not that any of this mattered.

The pain was just another _thing_ in his life, a basically incomprehensible and irritating thing that couldn't be stopped, couldn't really be alleviated, so it just had to hang here, a dull, heavy presence, and he had to deal with it. Much as he hated to admit it, Jounouchi had been right. The wounds got worse, the pain more intense and harder to ignore. He'd passed out a few times from being choked, which had never happened before.

Seto knew he was treating this passively, and he knew that was supposed to be a bad sign, or dangerous, or something. There was no subject, no object in this; it wasn't _my father fractured another of my ribs, _it was _the rib is fractured_. How it happened didn't matter. Why it happened? Well, that was a curiosity, and he had his theories, but there was nothing to be done with the knowledge. He had hoped the weeks away from the school would have calmed his father's mood, but whatever it was that had been riling him for the past few months only seemed to grow steadily more intense.

Seto had _tried _to be nice. He'd put on his best obedient caring son act, the one he'd spent years refining, and it only earned him another few bruises every time he tried it. It was strange that after so many years of adept deception and careful manipulation of his foster father it was only now that the man seemed to have really realised how many careful webs of meticulous falsehoods his son had woven about him. Perhaps because he'd never had the opportunity to see how Seto would act if he had genuinely romantic feelings for someone.

Seto closed his eyes. That wasn't a good line of thought. Jounouchi was gone, and that was that. It had been fun, like a holiday, but now it was time to return to regularly scheduled programming. The violent incidents had lessened in its frequency while Jounouchi was here, although increased in intensity, and now Jounouchi was gone again Seto expected things to even out. His father only seemed to grow angrier, more sadistic, more controlling. Something had to break soon; one of them had to snap...

Whatever. So what. This was only skin, and what happened to it didn't matter. He'd heal.

The bedroom door opened and Seto opened his eyes again, for one brief hot moment thinking he would see Jounouchi framed in it. But no, of course not. It was his father who shut the door behind him, giving his son a strange smile, as though satisfied to see that he was still there.

"Should we set off for the dinner now?" Seto asked, watching his father deposit his own bags and hang up his coat, once again making himself at home in this awful place. "Or do I have time to shower?"

Gozaburo shook his head, coming to join his son on the bed, sitting close beside him and reaching up to brush the hair from his son's face, revealing a black clot of blood above his left eye. "Forget about it. We'll skip it."

"Again?" Seto raised an eyebrow. "You always say that the opening dinner of a new term is important to set the tone." He sat still and obedient as his father's hand slipped to caress his cheek, pushing physicality from his mind. "People will think something's wrong if you're not present twice in one day."

"Let them think what they like," his father answered, leaning inwards for a strange, intimate kiss. He'd been giving Seto a lot of those lately. "They don't matter."

"But they're your little empire," Seto said, ignoring the kiss.

Gozaburo sighed and leaned back again, but put one hand around Seto's waist to draw him close. "The thing about power, Seto, is once you've got it – and I mean truly control it, with no one trying to usurp you – that you lose interest. What's the point of power if you don't need to fight to keep it, and what's the allure of anything that doesn't take a fight to win?"

Seto smiled drily. "That doesn't sound like the best policy for governing a school."

His father didn't seemed to be listening. He pushed forwards again, this time kissing his son's forehead. "I love you, Seto." He drew back, another crazed smile twisting his features. "You love me too, don't you?"

Seto resurrected that dry smile. "Of course, father."

"And you're mine, aren't you?"

Seto thought of a thousand little things, fragments of light and memory; of Mokuba, of his old home, of board games, of Jounouchi, of Jounouchi's smell, of heat and private lust, of peace, of the abstract, of love, of the weight of the sun, of the texture of grass.

His smile stayed fixed and cold. "Of course."

* * *

Mokuba was accustomed to waiting.

At the orphanage, he had waited for Seto to find someone to adopt them. At home, each day was just another day waiting to see his brother again. He waited for Seto to fix things. He had spent his entire life waiting for Seto.

Waiting had never been this difficult.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might not be totally okay with you planning to kill my father?"

Anzu turned to look around at him in mild surprise, seated as she was at her bedroom desk and Mokuba on her bed with his legs swinging against the mattress. She regarded him in silence. The clock ticked quietly in a corner, no other sound save the soft thrum of the traffic far below.

"If you'd like me to phone Jounouchi we can call the whole thing off," she suggested, unable to quite read the mess of anger and frustration on the young teenager's face. Though admirable, Mokuba's attempt at mimicking his brother's cool nonchalance fell very short.

"No," he said finally. "I just..." He sighed and dropped his head, expression sunk into a frightened exhaustion. "Niisama never told me this is what he wanted. It's not that I don't believe you when you say he does, because you're good people and you wouldn't risk your lives for this otherwise, it's just..." His eyes flicked back up to meet Anzu's, each of their expressions a mix of fear and cold confidence. "I know more than he thinks, you know. Do you know what's going on?"

Anzu very slowly shook her head. "I know Jounouchi," she said, voice full of soft confidence. "I know what that's school is like. I know he's a good person and he wouldn't endorse something like this if he didn't have a good reason for it." She gave a half shrug. "I know he cares about your brother and I trust him. That's enough for me."

Mokuba nodded reluctantly, running a hand agitatedly through his wild hair and closing his eyes. "I know Seto cares about him too. The way he looked at him..."

He looked up sharply as if he had said something he didn't mean to, but Anzu's gaze didn't flicker from its calm concern.

"It's alright, Mokuba," she said delicately. "I'm not going to pry into your business if you don't want me to."

Mokuba nodded once, his expression withdrawn. "I didn't see him at all over Christmas," he muttered, not quite meeting Anzu's eyes. "After we got home that was it. Father took him up to his room and I didn't see him again, not even at dinner." He screwed his eyes shut. "What if he's not okay? What if something really bad happened to him? I wouldn't even know, and all I can do is just _sit _here and _wait_ and hope that Jounouchi's idiot plan actually works."

He looked to Anzu, hoping for some answer, some reassurance that everything was going to be alright. Although she smiled back at him the smile was soft and unsure.

Mokuba sighed.

"I just really hate waiting."

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to move about the school, Jounouchi found. A few people glanced at his prefect badge and then his face with a slight frown, not recognising him, but it was the first day of term after all. He could very easily be a newly transferred prefect that none of them had met yet. He kept his face turned away from the security cameras and moved with the crowd, just another student among dozens. He had heard the rumours that there was an intruder, but they were just rumours, and when no alarms sounded or guards grabbed him he was almost deliriously relieved and had to fight the urge to punch the air in victory. He didn't think this plan would actually _work_. Even the people he vaguely recognised as sharing his lessons the previous term didn't seem to recognise him, but he always avoided their eyes when he spotted them.

Still, this was the easy part. Breaking into a high security building that was more like a fortress than a school? No problem. Getting out again with Seto? Jounouchi was drawing blanks on how exactly he was going to accomplish that.

But there was still time for something to come to him. Nothing even vaguely resembling a plan had come to mind in the last days of the holiday, but he had to act on the first day of term. It would be the most convenient time, what with all the confusion of returning students, and he had had no intention of staying in his apartment longer than he had to. The waiting was excruciating, the endless pointlessness, worse even than living in the tower had been. At least then he knew that Seto was still alright – as alright as he ever was. In his apartment everything was uncertain. No, he had to act today.

Jounouchi broke off from the group of students he was following into an empty corridor which he knew would eventually lead to the tower. There was nowhere to hide here, no students, just cameras and twisting empty corridors. He glanced up at the nearest camera nervously and then quickly away, staring at the ground, and quickly began to cover the distance to the other end of the hall. Eventually the security would realise there had been a break in – if they didn't already know; surely someone had been watching the field – and it wouldn't take much longer for them to match the face to their records, even if Jounouchi felt that he didn't look remotely like his old self with his hair cropped and dyed black.

There were many doors in this corridor, all of them silent and apparently not classrooms, but Jounouchi didn't pause to investigate – until he heard a familiar, terrible voice sound faintly from his right.

"Well, he's clearly not one of ours."

Jounouchi froze despite himself and despite the cameras, turning to stare at the closed door on his right, a plaque upon it reading 'Security'.

"I've put my men on amber alert," came another voice, unfamiliar. "I didn't think you'd relish the disruption."

"No," came Gozaburo's voice again. "It would hardly look good to have such an extreme false alarm on the first day of term. Still, it could be cause for concern. I have enough enemies to want to take this seriously."

"It's probably just a student," came the other voice, "who wanted to sneak in some booze and took advantage of the alternate way in."

"Probably. The guard at the wall said he didn't see anything?"

"Right."

"Buzz him again. I want to speak with him."

Jounouchi hovered outside the door, body burning with the sensation of the security camera framing him frozen and suspicious as all hell in an area of the school students rarely had reason to visit. But he couldn't move. He had to hear this conversation.

"What's the problem?" Gozaburo's voice again.

"He's not picking up. Give me a minute, he might just be in the middle of something."

"Oh, for God's sake. Alert security. I'm not risking this."

Jounouchi forced himself to take two more steps at that point, putting the conversation and wherever it was going behind him, making as quickly as possible for the door at the other end. Someone was watching the cameras. Someone could so easily put two and two together.

As he opened the door at the end he heard a door behind him open and quickly flattened himself against the wall in the next corridor, flicking off the lights before realising that while this might be the best way to avoid detection by anyone following him it certainly wouldn't look natural to whoever watched the cameras.

Sharp footsteps approached. Jounouchi pushed himself further into the darkness, painfully colliding with what he quickly discovered to be a door handle. He pulled it and let himself inside a pitch black room, shutting the door behind him and standing silently, breathing heavily.

He didn't hear any further doors open, and soon the footsteps began to fade away once again. Wherever they were going, it wasn't this way.

Jounouchi exhaled slowly, shaking his head and letting relief soak through his body. He didn't have long, but he was safe for now. "Fuck," he muttered. "I am such deep shit here."

The voice behind him came sudden and cold. "You really have no idea."

Jounouchi spun on his heels to see Gozaburo, standing in an open doorway. Clearly whatever room Jounouchi was in connected to the 'security' room he had eavesdropped outside.

Jounouchi rapidly processed his options. Run, and get caught by the security who were now apparently alert and looking for him, or stay, and... what? Fight? Negotiate?

A gun clicked. In his sudden fear he didn't even register that Gozaburo had one in his hand. Okay, fighting was out.

"I came to talk," Jounouchi said bluntly, and saw the older man raise an eyebrow in the vast darkness.

"Oh? That's funny, I actually have an excellent secretary who I'm sure would have been more than happy to arrange a phone call between us. And yet instead you chose to sneak around my school in disguise. How inexplicable."

"Well, I wanted to see Seto first," Jounouchi quickly improvised, eyes flicking to the gun and back to Gozaburo's face. "I wanted his opinion."

"His _opinion?_" Gozaburo took a step forwards, then another, the gun aimed steadily at Jounouchi.

"Yeah, just..." Jounouchi took a step back, stumbling, and looked madly about him. He couldn't do guns. Knives, baseball bats, once a particularly vicious Rottweiller, sure, there he at least had a chance of survival, but guns? How the hell did he defend against a gun? "I wanted... I just needed to..." He found himself backed against a wall, and when he turned back Gozaburo was pressed up against him, eyes glistening black stones in the darkness, staring fire into his own.

"What are you doing here?" the man said, cold death echoing through the words.

Jounouchi stopped trying to get away.

_Doomed from the start..._

To hell with it, to hell with all of it. He raised his chin and stood strong, eyes burning. "I wanted to help Seto."

The gun barrel was a shock of cool metal against his head. _"Why?_"

"Because – I – care," Jounouchi forced out through gritted teeth, having to press his skull back against the gun to prevent from crumpling. "I _care _about him."

"He doesn't care about you," Gozaburo hissed, his finger tensed around the trigger.

"Yes he does," Jounouchi spat back, hatred fuelling his anger and fear into one blind rush of fire. "And even if he didn't I'd still come for him."

It happened very fast. Jounouchi yanked backwards, dislodging the gun just as it went off, his hearing crashing into a high whine, and threw a punch blindly in the darkness and the dizzying aftershock of the gun's flash.

But a hand shot out, halting his wrist, so much stronger than his own arm. Gozaburo held his unlanded fist firm and his lip curled.

"He'll never be yours, you..."

Jounouchi heard the snap before he felt the pain, but then there it was, an eruption of white, and from his lips there issued a growing whimper that broke into an agonised scream.

Gozaburo released his broken wrist and Jounouchi fell to the floor, trying to control his breathing, unable to think of anything but the pain. Then there was light, and a group of men, and more pain that came in hot, unbelievable bursts from a taser in his side.

The rest was difficult to process. Jounouchi wasn't really aware of much at all, just the sensation of being carried, then more pain that came in incomprehensibly hot spikes. He didn't know if was being beaten, or tased again, or even shot, though since he still retained some semblance of consciousness he assumed it wasn't the latter.

He felt something hard and solid beneath him, a cold floor, then heard metal clang upon metal. He fought with the darkness dragging his consciousness down and lost, sinking into black and oblivion.

* * *

Seto read steadily, the logic of the sentences lulling him into a reassuring monotone. It was a biography of a famous economics professor, one much admired by his father and whose policies Seto greatly disagreed with, but each sentence led comfortably into the next and allowed him to luxuriate in the quiet of his own skull. Usually everything was so loud, and he was so very tired...

There were footsteps approaching, rapid and urgent. They had the weight of his father's, but the man never hurried like this. Seto felt as though his brain had been hung with weights, crawling sluggishly past thought after thought and failing to make sense of anything. When was the last time he slept? He didn't remember. It didn't matter.

The footsteps grew louder.

Seto shut the book and looked up through the balcony window, at the bright sky, and quietly realised that Jounouchi was likely dead. His father wasn't one for idle threats. _"You won't see him again."_

He should have known better. He should never have got the idiot mixed up in all this. He didn't need anyone, and having Jounouchi around certainly hadn't helped matters. Warm, bright Jounouchi, who Seto really would never see again. He probably would never even know what happened to him.

Seto's chest burned, but he ignored it. As the footsteps crested into a violent drumming up the stairs Seto thought briefly of his mother, his father, now so long dead that he couldn't quite remember their faces, and then of Jounouchi. No, Jounouchi couldn't be dead like they were; it was too surreal. The sheer absurdity formed a protective barrier in his chest, keeping what he couldn't honestly deny to be grief from swelling within him.

The door opened, and Seto looked up – then he crashed violently into a wall.

"Did I not teach you _standards?_" Seto barely had time to look up at his father's face before a brutal punch landed on his jaw, blacking out his vision and for a moment his hearing. "Do you not have _some _semblance of fucking standing?"

Seto blinked the darkness out of his eyes, too stunned by the pain to speak, and didn't even register he was being dragged across the floor until his head cracked against the foot of the bed. Then, a moment of flight, and he thought for one lunatic moment he had died and was borne aloft by angels, and then he came crashing down onto the bed as his father dropped him.

Seto managed to choke out a confused, "Father?" But then blood filled his mouth from another blow. A hot weight covered him as his father climbed atop him, pinning him down, clawing fingers finding his throat and quickly tightening.

"Why is he here, Seto? What did you promise him to make him come for you? Money, was it? _My _money? Did you think you could get away from me?"

Seto's mind narrowed onto the words, his brain starting to function properly again even through the panic and the agony and the burning growing steadily in his lungs. A perfect rapid monologue careened around his skull as he processed everything his overloaded brain had just been told. In moments he had deduced _Jounouchi, not dead, here, here for me. _A woozy joy grew within him even as his vision began to darken once again, the figure of his father fading, not even fighting for air any more.

"I asked you a question, Seto," Gozaburo snarled, and Seto was allowed a deep breath, accompanied as it was by a slap across the face.

Seto was unaware that he was smiling as he talked in slurred, broken bursts. "Are you... talking about Jounouchi?"

"_You – know – I – am._"

Seto was only able to tell the man had leaned forwards by his breath on his face. Seto was still smiling. "What a stupid boy."

Another slap. Seto ignored it, mouth never breaking off its smile.

"You're _mine_, Seto," the man hissed against his face. "All mine, don't you understand that?"

Seto took a long, indulgent breath, his smile still soft and sure. "Of course, father."

"_Liar!_"

Another slap. _How cliché._

Sudden pain erupted in his head as Seto felt himself moving once again, dizzily attempting to orient himself as he was yanked once more from the bed and hit the floor hard. A few seconds rest, and then ice buffeted his body. He wondered again if a blow to the head had simply killed him, but he deliriously cracked his eyes open and saw the sky open above him. Gozaburo had unlocked the balcony.

Seto felt himself dragged up again and grasped the edge of the hard, stone balcony wall tightly to stop himself either falling backwards or tipping over the edge. Below him the field was milling with students, unusual enough. They were filing in lines as they did in a fire drill, but Seto hadn't heard the alarms go off.

"Look at them, Seto," came his father's voice beside him. "My 'little empire', as you called it. Aren't you proud that you'll inherit this one day?"

Seto stared at him, head swimming but once again beginning to settle. "You know," he said, his voice a dry rasp, "I really don't give a shit."

A strong hand twisted in his hair and Seto winced, but didn't cry out.

"That's because you have no concept of standards, Seto," his father snarled, shaking him once before throwing him to the ground. "You don't appreciate what you have. You don't appreciate power, and strength, and..." He trailed off, eyes flickering inconsistently over the sea of students. "This is my empire," he muttered. "All mine. This is power. This is control." He took a sharp breath. "Why don't I care, Seto?" he murmured, not looking at his son. "Why do I care so much more about you?"

Seto laughed involuntarily, harsh and humourless. "You don't care about anything."

"I care about power. And the one thing I can't control, the one thing I failed at..." He let Seto complete the rest for himself.

"Sorry to disappoint you," said Seto, leaning back against the balcony wall and feeling the cool breeze on his face. It smelt like death. "I'm not much of one for being controlled."

Steeling himself, Seto pushed himself to his feet, stumbling immediately and catching himself on the edge of the balcony. He leaned against it beside his father, staring out over the students, ranked and filed and obedient.

"You can control them," Seto forced out, his voice failing him, "but you'll never mean anything to them." He swallowed blood and breathed deep last full breaths of cold air. "They'll all forget you."

Gozaburo took a steadying breath, knuckles curled white around the hard stone edge of the balcony wall. For a long moment the man's eyes were dark, and he stood hunched and silent, staring at Seto as Seto stared back. And then he stood straight again, and proud, and grinned at his son with all the confidence and malice that he had ever had.

"Perhaps," he said. "But you won't."

He made a violent grab for Seto's hand, stepped atop the balcony wall, and jumped.

* * *

"_Hey, Seto?" Silence. "Seto? Se-e-eto." A kick of the leg. "Seto, Seto, Seto-"_

_Seto lay down his book and sighed in exasperation. "Jounouchi."_

_Jounouchi sat against the left post at the foot of the bed, Seto sat against the right post of the headboard, their legs twisted across the diagonal._

_Jounouchi breathed in, chewed his bottom lip, looked towards the ceiling and back at Seto. "Remember what you said about kissing?"_

_Seto considered. "I told you not to."_

_Jounouchi shook his head, grinning. "Nah, you told me not to do it if I didn't mean it."_

_Seto's eyes drifted back to his book. "Exactly."_

"_So, what if I did mean it?"_

"_You don't."_

_A pillow hit Seto squarely in the face. He glared back at Jounouchi._

"_Oh, fuck you, man. What, you think you know me? You think you know what I like?"_

_Seto couldn't repress a smirk. "I know exactly what you like."_

_This time, Jounouchi didn't bother with the pillow, he just kicked out sharply with his leg at Seto's ribcage, immediately making Seto double over in pain, clutching his side where Jounouchi remembered the bruised red splotches he'd seen cover the skin there._

_He slid over the bed. "Shit, are you okay?"_

_Two furious, indignant blue eyes met his as Seto slowly raised his head. "Fuck you," he hissed._

_Jounouchi dipped his head in a single shift of awkward elegance and soon found his tongue in Seto's mouth, tasting blood that he'd tasted so many times before._

_The fury wasn't gone from Seto's eyes when Jounouchi withdrew. "I told you," Seto breathed. "_Don't._"_

_Jounouchi cracked a broad smile. "You can't tell me what to do."_

_He moved forwards again and Seto flinched, jerking his head to one side and screwing his eyes shut._

_Jounouchi froze. "Seto...?"_

_Seto's eyes opened slowly. "Please," he whispered. "Please just don't."_

_Jounouchi leaned back, his face falling. "But why not?"_

_The bed was warm between them, the tangled sheets enclosing them in red heat and pressing skin on skin. Seto said nothing, but from beneath his long fringe two cold, clever eyes smirked up at Jounouchi, his mouth twitched in a cold smile._

"_Because you're better than that," he answered. "You're better than this." He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Don't drag yourself down to my level."_

_Jounouchi didn't fall back, just sat pressed nearly flush again Seto and stared into those close, cold eyes. "Does pissing me off make you think you can get rid of me? You think insulting me is somehow noble because you think you can save me getting myself hurt?"_

_They sat in silence, twin pairs of cold, confident eyes staring one another time._

_"I'm not going to leave you, man," Jounouchi murmured, pushing forwards a little bit closer. "I promise. You can trust me."_

_"But I shouldn't," Seto breathed against him. "Jounouchi, just don't..."_

_His words floated out into the cold, formed smoky coils in the air, then dissolved into nothing._

* * *

Light. Sometimes clinical, white bulbed and burning; sometimes cool, dizzy in its azure vastness. Clear skies. But mostly it was darkness, timeless and warm, just floating in comfort and unconsciousness.

When he awoke it was to more darkness, at least beyond the windows, but this weird white room was lit with the weak glow of industrial overheads. For a moment, Jounouchi simply lay there, his mind awash with comfortable confusion. _Hospital, _he registered. _Something going beep. People talking. _He blinked away the fuzziness in his vision. _Hospital, _he thought again, solidifying this one certain fact.

"I apologise for the less than luxurious accommodation."

Jounouchi's disorientated brain tried to place the voice, which was _definitely _familiar and made him feel inexplicably angry and relieved at the same time.

He forced himself to look up.

Seto stood by the window, staring out into the night. He was dressed in his school uniform, though it was badly scuffed and the jacket was only half on, one sleeve hanging loose around a heavily bandaged right arm. His other arm held a polystyrene cup, his fingers twitching against it.

"Seto," Jounouchi muttered, trying to push himself up and immediately regretting it as pain shot through him.

"Lie still," Seto said, addressing the black window through which little blooms of cold street lights could be seen. "You've had fourteen stitches."

"It feels like everything's broken," Jounouchi muttered, for once taking Seto's advice and remaining still, half sitting against the propped pillows. "What happened?"

"Only your left arm and wrist are broken," Seto said levelly, ignoring the second part of Jounouchi's remark. "You have some internal bleeding from the severe beating the guards gave you. Your arm might not heal perfectly, but there's not much you can do about that."

"It's been broken before," Jounouchi said distractedly, "several times. Seto, where am I? What happened? I don't... I don't think I remember anything before..." Jounouchi frowned, then felt the recollection seep back. "Oh," he breathed. "I remember how my arm got broken."

"We match," said Seto drily, turning to show the bandages, and Jounouchi swallowed hard at the sight of the red, swollen area around Seto's eye and the countless eruptions of bloody bruises across his face. He'd seen worse, much worse in his gang days, but he had never seen Seto's face so horribly marred before. Noticing Jounouchi staring, Seto smiled and shrugged with his good arm. "Yes, I know. It'll fade." He took a breath. "I couldn't hide it from Mokuba. He was distraught."

"Mokuba..." He paled. "Oh shit, did Anzu get him to her place okay? Is he alright? Where's your dad?"

Seto smiled. "It's alright, we're safe, as is Mokuba, although he wasn't very pleased with your little plan to abduct him." The smile fell. "Nor am I, for that matter. You could've got him killed."

"I had to get him somewhere safe," Jounouchi said bluntly. "If I was going to save you then I needed him to be somewhere hidden. Anzu was our best bet."

Seto stared blankly. "Save me?" he repeated.

Jounouchi hesitated for a moment at the hostile confusion on Seto's face, then he raised his head and squared his shoulders, ignoring the pain in his arm. "Well, yeah. Save you. Because _your _plan was working so well, whatever the hell it was. Did you even _have _a plan?"

For a moment Seto held his hostility, then let it slip away, looking very tired with his cuts and beaten face. "I had a plan," he said heavily. "I had hundreds of plans." He drained his coffee and set down the empty cup, staring at it hard. "Not one of them would have worked."

Jounouchi let his own hostility soften. "Well, to be fair, mine didn't either."

Seto took a tight breath, looking over Jounouchi with cold appraisal. "No. And you could have got Mokuba killed. On the other hand, he might have been killed anyway if you hadn't done anything." He let out the breath. "Your hair looks ridiculous, by the way."

Jounouchi cracked a grin. "Hey, it was an integral part of the plan. I didn't want to cut it but my disguise was bad enough." His face suddenly paled. "Oh shit, are Yuugi and Honda and everyone okay? Do they know _I'm _okay?"

"I called them the moment I had you brought here," Seto replied in a calming voice. "You've been unconscious for hours. They sat by you until the doctors insisted that they let you get some rest."

"Oh, but they don't mind you keeping me awake?" Jounouchi retorted, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I spent the better part of the evening arguing with idiot medical staff who seem to think I'm not well enough to be walking around. I only just got away from them."

Jounouchi's eyes flicked again to the bandaged arm, then back to the pattern of cuts and scars on Seto's face. "_Are _you okay to be walking around?" he asked cautiously. He glanced nervously about him. "Are we even safe here? Will he find us?"

Seto's eyes immediately glazed, slipping from Jounouchi once again. When they sharpened again his gaze was one of utter indifference. Then he spoke in monotone, as though reading a news report. "Kaiba Gozaburo committed suicide by jumping to his death from the Kaiba Boarding School tower. He was pronounced dead at two thirty three this afternoon."

The machine that Jounouchi had been hooked up to kept steadily beeping.

"Oh," Jounouchi said flatly. "Oh, I see."

"He hurt my arm," Seto said suddenly. He met Jounouchi eyes and glanced at his bandages. "When he jumped, he hurt my arm."

Jounouchi stared. "He tried to pull you with him?"

"No," Seto said sharply, then sighed quietly. "Maybe. I don't know. It doesn't matter now. What matters is that he lost."

"Lost what?"

"The games we've been playing ever since he adopted me," he answered wearily, as though not really talking to Jounouchi. "Although, if he did have it arranged to have Mokuba hurt, I wouldn't have cared about playing any more, and I wouldn't have been able to stop him. So, perhaps it's a draw."

"Seto," Jounouchi said uncertainly, "you're alive and he isn't. _We're _alive, as is Mokuba, while that coward threw himself to his death. C'mon, man, there's no way you can say that it was a draw. You're alive, and he's not."

Seto took a sudden breath and his eyes fell closed, his good arm coming up to hug his shoulder. "Yes," he breathed, eyes opening with effort. "Yes, I'm alive."

Jounouchi watched him carefully, standing there exhausted and horribly bruised, then with tremendous effort managed to shift over to the other side of the narrow hospital bed, his arm and wrist all the while shooting out bolts of agony in protest.

"Sit with me," said Jounouchi, indicating the empty space.

Seto didn't hesitate, just nodded once before coming to sit beside him. He leaned back against Jounouchi's pillows and breathed out slowly. "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Well, no shock there," said Jounouchi, painfully turning so he could look at Seto better. "You look _really_ beaten up."

"It just didn't stop," Seto murmured, closing his eyes. "I didn't even know when it was night time. He never..." His fragmented speech cut off. He turned his head, pressing against the warmth of Jounouchi's body, clad in the simple hospital gown. Jounouchi could feel Seto's breath hot against him through the thin fabric.

"I'm here if you need anything," Jounouchi said brokenly, his free arm awkwardly brushing Seto's hair from his face.

Seto smiled faintly. "Anything?"

"Yeah, anything," Jounouchi said, grinning. "Whatever you want that to mean."

Seto's eyes stayed closed. His voice was soft and muffled against Jounouchi's side. "I just want to rest for a moment. Just a moment."

"That's okay," Jounouchi said, his fingers rubbing softly through Seto's hair.

"I have things to do," said Seto, but he raised his head from the mattress and shifted closer, moving hot and familiar into Jounouchi's lap and resting his head there, those strong thin limbs sliding comfortably around Jounouchi's broader body. Jounouchi's arm protested but he ignored it, his mind falling into stunned quiet at the sudden realisation that it was _over_, actually _over._ Seto rested there, head curled into Jounouchi's lap and the hand running through his hair. A great relief sang through Jounouchi's aching head. _We're okay, we're okay, we're okay..._

"I worry that I'm dreaming," Seto murmured. His fingers slid and tightened around Jounouchi's thigh. His lips pressed against Jounouchi's legs. "I'm sorry."

Jounouchi blinked. "What? Why?"

"For this," Seto replied, pressing his face into Jounouchi's leg. "This isn't what you need right now."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jounouchi stared at the back of Seto's head, who then slowly turned around to look up at him, those eyes twin blue bright glows. Jounouchi wrapped his arms tighter around him, the simplicity of embrace and safety all that existed.

Seto gave him one of those strange, unreadable smirks and lay his head back upon Jounouchi's lap. "Never mind."

* * *

Mokuba sat in silence in the hospital corridor, his feet swaying gently beneath the seat, a man in a suit and dark glasses sitting beside him. Both of them looked up every time a door opened and then looked away when the it turned out not to be Seto.

When the door to Jounouchi's room finally opened to reveal Seto, Mokuba jumped up and threw himself into his brother's arms. "Niisama..."

"I told you to go back to the mansion," Seto murmured, bending and catching Mokuba in a one armed hug.

His little brother wound his arms around his waist and pressed his face into his chest. "I know, I know. I just didn't want to be that far away from you." He drew back, blinking away tears he refused to acknowledge. "How are you?"

"I'm still fine," Seto replied, glancing over Mokuba's shoulder at the suited man who stood awkwardly behind him, trying to politely ignore the brothers' intimacy. "Isono," Seto said authoritatively, addressing the man and straightening. "Get me another coffee. And get Mokuba something to eat."

"Something with chocolate in it," added Mokuba, turning his head.

Seto shook his head. "No sugar. You'll be up all night."

"Niisama, it's three AM," Mokuba said exhaustedly.

"Oh." Seto considered for a moment and then shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "Chocolate then."

Isono nodded. "Yes, Seto-sama."

Seto nodded in return and went to sit where Mokuba had been sitting, watching Isono leave.

"He's been keeping the press away," Mokuba said, sitting beside his brother. "They've been following me everywhere."

"How tasteless," Seto said quietly. "I suppose a photo of a crying child makes for an eye-catching accompaniment to, 'Headmaster of prestigious school kills himself.'"

Mokuba raised his chin defiantly. "I haven't cried," he said, a touch of adult anger in his young voice. "And I'm not a child."

Seto smiled softly, leaning back against the wall and resting his head, his skull throbbing with a migraine. "No, you're not. But you are okay?"

Mokuba hesitated, then nodded. "I guess." He too leaned against the wall, staring straight ahead and frowning. "It's so weird. I know people expect me to be upset, but it mostly just feels weird. I feel like I should be angry, and I am, but..." He shrugged and sighed. "I'm mostly just tired." He looked up at Seto hesitantly, who met his eyes with similar weariness. "I just don't think I can feel angry at him for hurting you, while also feeling sad and weird that the man I've been calling father for almost as long as I can remember has killed himself, while _also_ being confused and conflicted about his suicide, and then I'm creeped out by all the reporters, and I saw a photo of the body on the news and it didn't even look like a _person_, and... and I feel guilty that I don't feel more angry than I do about how he hurt you, and I _am_ angry, niisama, I am so angry, I just..." His voice had crested into a high, broken pitch. "I'm just... tired." He sighed again, deflating, and gave up.

Seto drew him close and rested his head upon Mokuba's. He could faintly hear the beeping of Jounouchi's heart monitor in the other room, beeping in an odd rhythm with Mokuba's breathing.

"I feel guilty," Seto murmured, listening to the beeping, but Mokuba had fallen asleep within moments.

The door at the end of the corridor swung open and Isono returned, a coffee in one hand and two chocolate bars in the other. Seto smiled up at him, but didn't make effort to stand.

"Ah," said Isono, seeing Mokuba asleep. "He probably needs sleep more than chocolate."

"Mm." Seto took the proffered coffee and drank deep, ignoring the burning in his mouth.

"Is more caffeine what you really need, Seto?"

"I can't sleep," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Too tired."

"I'm sorry?"

Seto smiled faintly. Then he opened his eyes again and stood, gently shaking Mokuba awake.

"Go sleep in the limo," he said quietly, and Mokuba nodded sleepily. Seto glanced to Isono. "Stay with him. I'll be with you soon. I'm going to check on Jounouchi once more."

Isono nodded and guided a half-asleep Mokuba down the corridor, Mokuba's head with its mop of black hair leaning against the man's legs as he forced himself to stay awake as he walked.

Seto watched them go, privately agreeing with Mokuba on being too tired to accommodate any more emotions at this time.

He let himself back into Jounouchi's room, who was still awake and staring out of the window.

"Hey again," Jounouchi said, voice disconcertingly bright after Mokuba's exhausted tone.

Seto shut the door behind him, leaning against it and sighing. "I'm going to go back to the mansion with Mokuba. He needs some stability. It was hard enough on him moving between relatives, to the orphanage, and to the mansion; I want to minimise the effects of this rupture as much as possible."

"Is he okay?" Jounouchi asked, expression concerned but still bright and animated.

Seto nodded. "He will be. Gozaburo was never much of a father to him, but still. I think he's struggling more with..." He broke off and indicated his beaten face. "The press expect us to mourn our father's death, but he'll feel guilty if he mourns the death of the man who beat his brother, so whether he feels sad or not he'll feel like he's doing the wrong thing. Not to mention I'm supposed to be his strong, unbreakable brother. And..." He smiled, not quite sarcastic, more bitterly amused. "I'm all broken."

Jounouchi returned a weak smile. "You look fine to me."

Seto gave a harsh laugh. "I look appalling, Jounouchi, as you are well aware. I really have no inclination to look in a mirror again any time soon."

"I just meant..." Jounouchi shrugged. "You seem more relaxed."

"Well, my father did just kill himself. That's very relaxing." He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his exhausted face. "I don't even know if I'm being sarcastic."

"But you're happy, right? I mean, this is what you wanted?"

Seto stared at him for a moment, but he didn't seem to have the energy to maintain his usual intense glare and his eyes soon slipped away. "I don't know about 'happy'. I'm not really sure what I'm feeling. But, yes, this is what I wanted. I just..." He closed his eyes and for a moment Jounouchi thought he would fall asleep where he stood. Seto's voice came thin and faraway. "I just wish I could have done it. He didn't have the right to go out on his own terms."

Jounouchi tried and failed to think of an answer to that. "I wanted to do it too," he said bluntly. "I wanted to make him pay. I don't think I even managed to land a punch."

"You hit him that other time," Seto said distractedly, "when he was choking me."

Jounouchi snorted. "Hardly the same."

"But it is," Seto murmured, eyes still shut tight, brow creased in a gentle frown. "You cared. He wanted to use you to prove that no one would ever care, to break my resistance to him. He didn't expect you to actually..." His eyes slowly opened, cloudy and faraway. "In that way, I suppose you did kill him. He's always been unstable, but I didn't think he cared enough about me for something like this to push him over the edge."

"You think this meant he cared about you?"

Seto shrugged, the motion as sluggish as his gaze. "He cared about power. Same thing, really." His eyes drifted even more, sliding unfocusedly around the hospital room. "Must have taken a long time for him to hit the ground."

For that, Jounouchi really had no answer.

Seto shook his head and straightened, his back audibly cracking and the grey heaviness falling from his features. "I'm going to get back to the mansion now. You should rest."

"You gonna visit me?" Jounouchi said, grinning. "Bring me flowers and 'get well soon' balloons?"

Seto rested his hand on the door handle and pushed it open. "Perhaps."

Jounouchi's smile slipped. "Don't 'perhaps' me, man. You owe me more than that."

Seto paused in the doorway, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. I owe you a lot."

"Oh, don't be like that," Jounouchi said, raising his head from the bed. "Don't come because you think you're in my debt or some stupid reasoning that doesn't make any sense to anybody who isn't you." Jounouchi gave him a final smile. "Come by because you want to, because we're friends. Or I think we're friends. More or less than friends, I don't even know." He took a shuddering breath and let his head fall back against the pillow. "That's too complicated to think about right now. Like, I think I need to concentrate on healing my broken arm before I think about anything else."

"If you're relying on brain power to mend your arm it'll never heal," Seto said, smirking.

"I'd throw something at you if I could move," Jounouchi replied, and for a moment it felt like things had been before, before all this, before any of the awful things had happened, and then it occurred to Jounouchi that, for Seto, there _was _no 'before'. It had been how it was for years, and only now were matters righting themselves. He bowed his head briefly. "I'll see you around, okay?"

Seto inclined his head, elegant even despite the disfiguring scars, and left the hospital room with the door shutting quietly behind him.

* * *

**And that's the final 'real' chapter. The epilogue will be up next weekend.**


	11. What Remains

**Epilogue**

* * *

The bars that made up the ornate, overpowering gates to the Kaiba mansion were quite certainly not wide enough apart to slip through, but they accommodated Jounouchi's arms well enough. He leaned there, draped about the uncomfortable metal as he watched Mokuba leisurely approach down the vast gravel drive that connected the gate to the mansion's grand front doors.

"Do you have to take so long?" Jounouchi called out once he was sure Mokuba was in earshot, but Mokuba only shrugged and gave no reply until he was a few metres from the gate.

"I don't have to open it manually, you know," he said, folding his arms and coming to a halt, regarding Jounouchi with the same proud hostility that so befitted his brother.

"But you felt like lecturing me face to face?"

Mokuba shrugged again, apparently in no mood to also imitate his brother's insults. "You do know he's not expecting you?"

"Yeah, I know."

Mokuba nodded leaned to the side, pressing some hidden button that made something buzz and the gates begin to swing open. Jounouchi extricated himself from the bars and stood back, waiting for a large enough gap to open to accommodate him and then slipped through, coming to stand next to Mokuba.

"I'll take you to him if you want. You know he might not want to see you?"

Jounouchi gave a dry grin. "A risk I'm willing to take."

Mokuba turned towards back towards the mansion with another little shrug. "So long as you're prepared to be turned away at the door."

They walked together to the front of the mansion, setting out in even, slow steps, neither in any hurry to reach their destination.

"I think he'll let me in," Jounouchi said, casting his eyes about the vast Kaiba grounds. "He's too proud to turn me away."

"If you say so, Jounouchi," Mokuba replied before falling quiet.

The gravel beneath their feet ate up the awkward silence in dry crunches, the hum of some kind of garden equipment making a soft, distant background noise. It was peaceful here, great and green, everything neatly clipped and ordered.

"So," said Jounouchi at random, simply for something to break the silence. "How are you doing?"

He watched Mokuba out of the corner of his eye, the little Kaiba's face cool and blank like his brother's. He glanced sharply in Jounouchi's direction and Jounouchi dropped his gaze.

"I'm fine," Mokuba said stiffly, eyes straight ahead. "It's been a little odd. I haven't been to school in a month. I didn't intend to take any time off but..." He shook his head. "People act so oddly around me. The students, the teachers... They treat me like a piece of glass. When I tell them I'm fine they just assume I'm lying or in shock or something. The idea that a thirteen year old might not be upset by his father's death is a bit beyond them."

A lone gardener worked his way across the lawns with a mower, very small and far away. Jounouchi watched him, nothing but swathes of grass separating them. No flowers, no water features, nothing. Just grass and, up ahead, a few sparse trees. It wasn't, Jounouchi suddenly realised, either of the surviving Kaibas' choice in landscaping.

"I didn't want to stay at that school anyway," Mokuba continued, only half addressing Jounouchi. "Bunch of stuck up snobs. A feeder school for the Kaiba school, you see."

"Feeder school?"

"Yeah, you know," Mokuba said distractedly. "Kids from there that do well tend to end up in the Kaiba school. A nice ladder into wealth and privilege. There are feeder preschools for my school, too."

"You don't like wealth and privilege?" asked Jounouchi wryly, shooting another glance around the capacious grounds.

"I like them fine. I just can't stand the snobs and aristocrats that I have to hang out with."

As they approached the main entrance they passed a high line of perfectly cultivated trees, behind which was revealed a vast pile of flowers in various stages of decay. Those at the bottom were wet and rotting, those at the top still fresh as though barely in bloom.

"You tearing up your flower beds or something?" asked Jounouchi, pointing at the pile.

Mokuba wrinkled his nose and made a sound of distaste. "They're condolence bouquets. For Gozaburo, you know."

"Oh," said Jounouchi bluntly. Indeed, as they neared he could make out little cards in the flowers. They'd all been stripped of their plastic sheaths but the condolence cards remained, clearly intended to suffer the same fate as the bouquets. There were a lot of what Jounouchi assumed were lilies, turning a sickly purple as they decayed.

"People just keep sending them so we stopped bothering throwing them out. We only get a couple each day now but they still keep coming. Niisama says it'll be easier to let them rot and use it for compost."

They climbed the steps to the porch, as great and ornate as everything else about this place, lined with ostentatious white columns. Mokuba lay two hands on the extravagant door handle and put all his weight onto it, forcing it open with obvious effort.

"We usually have a doorman," he panted, letting Jounouchi slip through the crack before slipping through himself and releasing the door to let it clang heavily against the frame. "Niisama's fired nearly all the house staff. He's too busy working on replacing all the school staff and keeping the place running to worry about the domestics."

The interior was just as majestic and oddly sparse as the exterior, deep plush crimsons and rich greens forming the basis of the colour palette, but there was no variety to it, no life. Everything metal shone bright and brass and golden tassels hung from heavy curtains. There was a thin but very visible layer of dust over everything. Clearly neither Mokuba nor Seto had opted to take up the cleaning duties in the staff's absence.

"He's keeping the school open, then?" said Jounouchi, following Mokuba up the vast, red carpeted stair case.

"Yeah. He's fixing it."

Jounouchi gave Mokuba's retreating back an uncertain glance. "Fixing...?"

"I know what goes on there, Jounouchi," Mokuba said shortly. "Niisama might think I'm still the naïve five year old I was when Gozaburo adopted us but I'm not."

Jounouchi stared at the back of Mokuba's head, unsure how much Mokuba was keeping secret. He wanted to ask, his curiosity burning through him, but it really wasn't his business. In the end he just said, "Your brother doesn't think you're naïve. He just wants to protect you."

"I know, I know," Mokuba muttered, finally reaching the top of the stairs. He hesitated, standing there with one hand on the banister and staring at nothing. "It's just so weird, you know? The funeral was so strange."

Jounouchi blinked. He hadn't even considered that there would have been a funeral.

"Niisama didn't invite anyone," Mokuba continued. "He didn't tell anyone when or where it would be. We didn't even have a proper ceremony. We got dressed up, went to the crematorium, and just burnt him. No wake or ceremony or anything. We burnt the body and had the ashes put in a cardboard box. Then on the drive back niisama had them stop the car and he dumped the ashes out over a cliff. It was all pretty weird."

He didn't look at Jounouchi when he said this, looking very old for his age as he stood at the top of the stairs, the mansion and what was now partly his property spread out before him. He sounded less and less like the energetic child Jounouchi remembered and more like a young teenager, a teenager who had now lost two parents and a foster father. The resemblance to his brother was more prominent, the tired cynicism more pronounced.

"I didn't think Seto would have wanted a funeral," Jounouchi said awkwardly, simply for something to say.

"I think it was less a funeral to him and more about officially proving he was the victor," said Mokuba absent mindedly. He finally met Jounouchi's eyes with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess you're one of the few people who knew what he was really like."

"It's fine, really. I'm just happy that you're doing alright."

"Mm. You know," Mokuba continued in that odd, slightly distracted voice, "you've been really good for niisama. He'd never admit it but he really does value your friendship."

Jounouchi couldn't stop a sarcastic smile twisting the corners of his mouth.

"Is that why he hasn't been returning my calls?"

Mokuba only shrugged. "You're the only person I've spoken to since I dropped out of school except for niisama and Isono. Don't be too hard on him for it."

Jounouchi winced. "I didn't mean..." he started, but Mokuba had already began leading him down the hallway. He didn't seem very interested in Jounouchi's presence, always looking through him or talking as if he was alone. As Jounouchi followed Mokuba's small form he thought back on what Mokuba had said about not being naïve and had to suppress a shudder. If Mokuba really did know even some of what Gozaburo had done to his brother then dealing with the aftermath of the man's death and the remnants of his life had to be almost as hard for him as it did for Seto.

"Hey, Mokuba?" Jounouchi ventured nervously.

"Watch your step," Mokuba said, not even glancing back, and Jounouchi let it drop, occupying himself with manoeuvring around a sudden obstacle course of boxes, crates, and other storage material, all the more difficult to negotiate in the sudden gloom of this part of the house. They passed tall stocked piles of boxes, each laden with what Jounouchi assumed to be Gozaburo's paraphernalia. Several were packed entirely with portraits, all crammed unceremoniously together in a mess of dreary paints and austere expressions of long dead men.

"What are you going to do with all this?" Jounouchi asked. Mokuba still didn't turn around.

"Burn it."

"Seriously? Some of this stuff must be worth a fortune."

"Niisama doesn't want some weird collectors cult springing up. You'd be amazed how much people obsess over this stuff."

He finally stopped, but stopped short and nearly made Jounouchi trip into him. Mokuba turned to look at him, folding his arms and appraising him in a way that, in the dark of the corridor, was eerily reminiscent of his brother.

"Okay, here we are," he said.

Jounouchi looked around, expecting to see some grand door or a secret entrance hidden behind a bookshelf, but all there was was the blank, unassuming door between them. It might have been a supply closet for all its contrasting dullness in this great house of velvet and expense.

"That's it?"

Jounouchi eyed the door warily, prompting Mokuba to roll his eyes and knock sharply on the door.

"Niisama?" he called. "Jounouchi's here to see you." He dropped his voice again. "Be nice to him," he said, smiling ruefully, "or I will have to have you killed."

He gave a wide, joyless grin and then walked back the way he came, silhouetted against the distant light at the other end of the corridor.

Jounouchi watched him go, unsettled, but he doubted that Mokuba wanted to share his business with a stranger like himself, at least for now. Perhaps one day they could talk, if they ever got the chance to get to know one another better.

He forced his darkening thoughts back to the door. He could hear no one moving beyond it, could hear nothing at all but Mokuba's fast fading footsteps.

Jounouchi knocked as loudly as he dared, pressing his ear up against the wood, but there was still no sound.

He tried the handle, finding it unlocked, and pushed the door open.

Bright daylight washed over his eyes, a harsh contrast from the snug darkness of the hall. He was confronted with what appeared to be a bedroom, presumably Seto's, but Seto's bedroom wasn't quite what Jounouchi expected. He wasn't sure what to expect, but sheer, naked walls and only an antique desk and a small futon for furniture weren't it. It was quite the difference from the artfully designed chambers of violets, crimsons, and a thousand other deep colours that Jounouchi couldn't name in which Seto used to sleep. Everything was either white or beige, giving the room a disconcerting, medical suggestion.

No, his first impressions were not quite accurate, there was one other item of furniture – a chair, an unremarkable office chair, so unremarkable that it confirmed Jounouchi's suspicion that none of this furniture had been chosen in relation to one another. There was no attempt at style, not even hyper minimalistic, just a bunch of objects that had been brought together at random in one place.

Jounouchi had only failed to notice the chair immediately because his brain could only register the person sitting in it at the expense of all else.

"Could you shut the door?"

Jounouchi did so, letting the door swing shut behind him and close with an inelegant crunch of weak wood. His skin was tingling with heat at the sudden rush of that low, familiar voice.

Seto was bent over his desk, lit by the vast floor to ceiling window against which the desk was positioned. "It's only temporary," he said, apparently guessing Jounouchi's feelings at the sight of the room. He sat bent over a document, scribbling something very rapidly, surrounded by papers piled in orderly disorder. "I'm redecorating my bedroom. Or moving it. I haven't decided yet."

"Oh," Jounouchi said underwhelmingly, utterly lost for what to say. Now he was finally confronted with Seto, or rather the back of Seto's head. All the conversations he had rehearsed seemed to have lost everything that made them seem witty and meaningful in the comfort of Jounouchi's bedroom. "So," he started with more confidence than he felt, "you didn't return my calls."

"Yes, I know," Seto replied, setting his pen down finally and swivelling his chair around to face Jounouchi. "I've been preoccupied."

He looked better, was Jounouchi's first thought. The bruises were gone from his face, the cuts all but completely healed. It was strange seeing him in something other than the school uniform, dressed as he was in a black turtleneck and black pants. He was not quite so awfully thin, the usual dark circles around his eyes not quite as sunken and his cheekbones not quite so disturbingly prominent, but otherwise he looked remarkably similar. Jounouchi wasn't sure why he was expecting something different. Seto's expression, his eyes, were still the same. Still closed and guarded, something cold and mocking lurking behind them.

"Too busy for a phone call?" Jounouchi ventured.

Seto regarded him in silence for a moment, eyes taking in Jounouchi's still odd looking hair cut which had not yet grown back to normal and his scuffed, dirty jeans.

"I thought you might be busy also," Seto said finally and delicately.

"I called you, what, eight times? You thought I couldn't take a phone call?"

Seto's eyes were hard. "Perhaps."

Then he stood, rolling his shoulders back and regarding Jounouchi coolly, leaning against the desk and folding his arms in the same way that Mokuba had done.

"It's good to see you," he said stiffly, and dropped his eyes. He clenched his jaw, staring hard at the floor for the moment, then looked back up at Jounouchi. "I'm glad you came by."

Jounouchi hadn't expected this conversation to go so cordially. He had expected shouting, recriminations, maybe something or someone getting broken, then getting tossed by Seto's security for intruding on his property. He had imagined he would be angry enough to act on anything, to face anyone, to force some answers out of the boy who had ignored every single phone message of heightened emotion that Jounouchi had left for him. This was most definitely not what he had been expecting.

"So you _did _want to see me?" Jounouchi said, more confused than anything right now, and fell back against the door to lean in relative discomfort as he waited for something resembling an explanation.

Seto only smiled, warm and unfathomable. "I did. I didn't think you _should _see me, though. It would be better off if you just left."

"Why?" asked Jounouchi bluntly.

Seto took a very long, thin, tense breath. "Exactly what do you want from me?"

Jounouchi could only stare with blank confusion. "Uh, I wanted to check if you were okay?" he offered, blinking dumbly. "Maybe get a pizza or something? Watch a movie? I don't know, you could come round to Yuugi's and we could all play Duel Monsters or something."

Seto laughed involuntarily, short and uncomfortable, as though spontaneous laughter didn't quite know how to escape his body. "That's it?"

"Well, I didn't have any, like, long term plans. What, how specific did you want me to get?"

Seto held his gaze for a moment longer, then his eyes slipped away. His voice came soft and unsure. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"_What? _Seto, I..." Jounouchi struggled for mental footing, starting to sense the tone of this conversation. "Well, okay, it's not like I haven't thought about it," he admitted, forcing himself to look up. "It might be nice. It'd be weird, definitely, but I think it'd be nice."

An icy silence rose up and filled the room, making Jounouchi suddenly feel very, very uncomfortable.

"What about you?" he said awkwardly. "Do you want to...?"

A delicately pained expression crossed over Seto's face, Seto's cold eyes still not meeting Jounouchi. "I..." His lips formed an unspoken word. "I don't think I can," he finished, still avoiding Jounouchi's eyes.

"That's cool," Jounouchi said, shrugging, though disappointment sunk weightily through him. "That's fine."

"No it isn't," Seto muttered, lip twisting in a sneer as he directed a deep glare at the carpet. "This isn't what you need."

"Yeah, well, it's really not up to you to call the shots on that." He looked over Seto's face, so smooth and closely folded into himself that not the barest glimmer of affection slipped from it, just indifference and disdain, all directed at the floor as he continued to avoid Jounouchi's eyes. "If you don't want to have me around, then I'll go. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or get in your way. But don't make it about me, because I want to be here, with you."

Seto finally looked at him again, his expression painfully composed. "You're heterosexual," he said tightly. "If you want to experiment you should go find someone who isn't brok-"

"If you dare call yourself broken I'm going to punch you." Jounouchi's voice came harsher than he intended.

Seto faltered. "Fine," he said coldly. "If you want to pretend that everything's alright with me and I've grown up healthy then have it your way."

"Seto, don't take this the wrong way," Jounouchi began steadily, "but I really don't give a shit." Seto's eyes flicked up but Jounouchi forced on. "You've been through a lot of terrible things, more terrible things than any one person should have to deal with, but I want to be with you for _you_, for everything you are, for the guy who saved my life and protected me no matter what, the guy who did all that because he's a good person and just generally incredible." He swallowed, rapidly trying to collect his thought. "I don't even know if I want to be your lover, though the thought of being with you..." He could feel himself growing hot again, excitement and embarrassment and a hundred other burning little emotions seizing up inside him. "It's weird, and probably insane, and probably a terrible idea, but I think think it's something I want. And if I can't have that, then I definitely want to be your friend. See you every day. Talk to you. Maybe one day, if you want, we could be something more."

Neither said anything. A light breeze was picking up outside, disturbing the fringe of leaves that could be seen from Seto's window.

"Have you seriously been ignoring me because you think I'd be better off without you?" Jounouchi said quietly.

By way of reply Seto tilted his head very slightly to the side, the smallest sign of affirmation.

Jounouchi sighed exasperatedly. "Seto, for a smart person you can be incredibly dumb sometimes." Seto's mouth twitched in a fleeting smile, and Jounouchi broke a grin. "Everything's different now. You finally get to be your own person. I want to be with you for that." He shrugged, feeling as though he'd missed the mark on every hope of eloquence he once had. "I don't know if I'm into guys, but I know I'm into you, whatever that's supposed to mean, and the thought that one day I might get to be with you makes me feel... It makes me feel better about getting through each day. Not a lot better. It's still really fucking hard, some days." He drew a short, sharp breath. "But it makes it a bit better. It makes me feel like there's a life beyond all that shit, that there's a chance it'll all, one day, get a whole lot better. I look at you and see how strong you are and everything you've done and been through, and..." He gave a final, meagre shrug. "It makes it a little better."

Seto didn't even meet his eyes. He just pulled back the office chair and sat in it once again, drawing it close to the desk and resting his hands loosely upon the table.

"You know," he murmured, disturbing the silence, "I enjoyed our time together."

"So did I."

"But think about it, Jounouchi," he continued in that same faint, ghost of a voice. "The worst experience of your life was the best of mine." Face still turned away, he drew a shuddering breath. "I know how awful it was for you, and obviously it wasn't exactly an easy time for me, but at least things made _sense_. I knew what I had to do. I knew my place."

"Your _place?_"

He shook his head dismissively. "You know what I mean. When it came to sex I didn't have a choice. That made it easier. Now that I can finally live for myself, for myself and Mokuba, now I actually have a _choice _I feel like... I just shut down at the thought." He screwed up his face in grim disgust. "If I tried to kiss you I think I would vomit. It's like waking up again in my own skin. Just brushing against someone brings all the memories crashing back. It's ridiculous." He barked out a short laugh. "If anything I'm even more fucked up now than I was when father was-" He cut himself off and tell into a brief, tense silence. "When Gozaburo," he corrected, "was alive."

"That's pretty normal," Jounouchi replied, pushing away from the door to walk slowly across the room. "You've finally got room to, I don't know, breathe."

"It's the first time in years that I've been able to go a week without waking up with someone..." He left the sentence unfinished. "It's like learning how to be a human being again." He ran his left hand, which trembled very faintly, over his face. "I don't know what to do about Mokuba. I don't know how to tell him any of this, or if I even should. I just... can't..."

He visibly stiffened when Jounouchi had come to stand behind him. Jounouchi kept a foot of space between them, standing a little to the side so he could see some of Seto's face in profile and so that Seto could keep in view.

"I won't move any closer," he said. "Promise." He wanted to take Seto's hand, just briefly, but he stopped himself. Instead he lay his hand upon the table, not very far away from Seto's; a little gesture of intimacy.

They stood in silence with a slowly growing comfort, a familiar memory of shared quiet and peace growing in the empty sound.

Seto's right hand, resting on the desk, twitched very slightly, then gently and cautiously shifted over the desk, close to where Jounouchi's hand lay. Jounouchi felt sure he could feel the heat from Seto's hand against his own, only a sliver of air separating them. He watched Seto's little finger, awkward but delicate, come creeping over his thumb. And there it stayed, rubbing gently back and forth, and outside the trees were swaying in similar slow, rocking motions, and when he turned to look at him Jounouchi realised that, now, in the vast white light of Seto's huge windows, those eyes were so apocalyptically blue it stung to look at them.

* * *

**END**

* * *

**It's strange to have finally finished this, having started it nearly five years ago. It's a difficult ending to write, trying to create a relatively upbeat ending that doesn't trivialise the events of the story. I still have some problems with the premise of this fic but I've tried to do it as much justice as I could. I'll post a blog post about it so I don't clutter the chapter up any further.**

**Thank you to all my readers and reviewers, your comments have meant a lot to me. I'll be writing more Kaiba/Jou fics in future, likely more angst (nothing as dark as this, I hope), so keep an eye out if you're interested.**

**Thank you to everyone for reading.**


End file.
